My blush would be crimson red as we held hands in the flower meadow.
I haven’t gone there ever since. The memories of you are engraved in my mind.
Now I just sit in these sheets and sob, hoping that one day you’ll remember me.
The flowers in the meadow that we picked ourselves are now filled with thorns and poison ivy.
Returning to the meadow we laid in, I rest by a tree. Though instead of the flowers and
Butterflies welcoming me, the thorns in which I wished were your soft hands, wrapped around my pale skin.
I screamed and cried, but the only words that left my mouth were your name. I didn’t give up and tried to fight the thorns away.
My lifeless body was found the next day next to the tree in which we carved out initials in. Please bury me in this meadow in which I wait for the day where you come back.
















