The sad thing about love is how it sings
Right up until the moment when it dies;
How hearts will give their all, their everything,
Only to find, to their endless surprise
That circumstance and fate, those lovers’ friends,
Become their mortal enemies at last;
That all our endless earthly things have ends,
And much our best, lives only
In the past
Reblogged this on perfectlyfadeddelusions.