I cry for a love that’s dead.
I cry for a love that I’ve tried for a long time to hold on to, the love that kept me captive.
A love that kept me stuck instead of letting me grow.
I cry not because I’m sad; I cry because it’s over.
I cry because at some point it was a love that was worth it, a love that was too strenuous a struggle but one that I chose to suffer in.
I cry for a love that’s dead, something that once was wonderful.
A love now wilting to the ground like a helpless rose on desert sand.