My love is like a red, red rose
Silently, tears streamed down my porcelain cheeks like raindrops rolling down a car window. My head tilted up slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the murky, opaque skies above me. Several stray hairs swept across my face as I forced my head back down. Tears continued their endless waterfall down my face.
My love is like the melodie that’s sweetly play’d in tune
My hands clutched the wrinkled paper like it was the only thing that mattered anymore. In some ways it was. I vaguely remember someone telling me when you cry loudly it is because you are hurt, but when you cry silently it is because you cannot stop. “What happens when you cry silently because you are hurt and you can’t seem to stop?” my thoughts wandered.
So deep in love am I, and I will love thee still, my dear
A cold and chilling wind whipped my raven black hair across my face. My cheeks were red, and my eyes were swollen from crying. Whatever was left of the sun has gone now, but I cannot bring myself to leave. I sit down and begin to read the paper. “My love is like a red, red rose. My love is like the melodie that’s sweetly play’d in tune. So deep in love am I, and I will love thee still, my dear,” my voice doesn’t sound like my own. Exhaustion overcomes me as I lay my head on the gravestone of the only man I have ever loved, and I slowly drift off to sleep.