Anonymous 1m 250 #firstlove
The views of this article are the perspective of the author and may not be reflective of Confessions of the Professions.
In the garden of love, where blooms once danced, A fragile heart, with innocence entranced. We danced together, two souls intertwined, But alas, my steps led to love maligned.
In the glow of passion, a flame burned bright, Yet shadows lurked, veiled in the gentle night. I held your heart, a delicate treasure, Unaware of the impending rupture.
A symphony of whispers, love’s sweet refrain, But the melody changed, turned to bitter pain. I stumbled blindly, lost in my own strife, Unwittingly crafting the end of our life.
The echo of your heartbreak, a haunting tune, As petals of trust fell, withering too soon. I see the tears, like raindrops on a rose, Each one a story, a chapter that closed.
Regret, a bitter taste upon my lips, As I shattered the porcelain of our bliss. A novice in love, I played a reckless part, And in my folly, I broke your tender heart.
I wish I could rewind the hands of time, Mend the fractures, compose a sweeter rhyme. But love, once broken, leaves scars that remain, A painful reminder of sweet love’s wane.
In the gallery of memories, a portrait gray, A testament to a love led astray. Yet, from this sorrow, may wisdom emerge, A lesson learned as a gentle surge.
For in the ruins of love, new seeds may sow, And from the ashes, a stronger love may grow. So here I stand, with remorse as my art, Having learned the cost of breaking your heart.