His love for me was like a paper rose

An imitation of beauty

Forever captured in a medium

It cannot age or decay or die

But it was cold

It was dead

And yet it never quiet lived

A paper rose

A statement.

His feeling was an imitation

Of the real beauty

In passion and love and foreverness.

Fondness would never substitute love

A paper rose will never,

Be real or delicate or as cared for.

His love for me

Can never be real

It was only a beautiful facade.

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