Love at first sight,
Until we turn our head.
Your pretty little hand is wilting in mine.
The roses turn from a crimson red into a shriveled, lifeless burn.
Our breath slows,
To foreheads, shoulders, fingers,
Anywhere but where the truth can be confronted.
Our lips touch and the motions seem so familiar.
Dusk is setting and the magic from the light is extinguishing.