I hate becoming just another memory, Another person that you remember, But don't bother about any more. I remember the love that we shared, Strong and full of fire and passion, A youthful love under pressure. I consider our love a wilted rose, Taken by time and changed, The beauty lost and tainted. There were days I could just sit and survey your beauty, And days you would prick me and I would bleed, But I still loved you...