By Adeiza Atureta
The cold whisper of our love has died,
And yet, we boast of memories,
that bring back nothing,
but endless pain.
Somehow, we loved;
we hated in our back and forth.
There is no gain in our love.
And our imaginations of 'forever' burns reluctantly.
Tonight, is no different,
We cannot accept the impossible.
I die, you die;
Our feelings will never again lie.