A request from a withering rose:
I captured your gaze as a promising young bud.
I met your senses.
As you set your yearning gaze upon my bold petals and filled your sinuses with the flow of my fragrance, you mirrored my beauty back to me. We created love, together.
As the season turns to fall and inevitably winter, don't turn away from me.
My gift isn't over yet, there is more love to be had.
Have a good cry for my exquisite demise.
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