Their story went something like this:
they were desperately happy
every moment they shared was wrapped in satin ribbons
that they pulled open together
laughter and love was always in full bloom
their arms ached when they were apart
but like any story there was one blight on their happiness
it was a weed that he had nurtured thinking it was a flower
it had been beautiful once
but the thorns bore a poison
the more you were pricked the closer you were to death
the weed held back the poison so that he would die more slowly
it was payment for his kindness
he watched love get brown edged like a dying rose
she cried out, “help me, remove the weed.
We will both be spared”
In the end, she tearfully whispered, “spare yourself
death has pierced my heart”
his weeping cleared his eyesight
he realized that the weed was ugly and malicious
but it was too late
she had taken the beautiful life wrapped in ribbons
and so a broken spirit (not the poison) claimed his life
the weed no longer had anyone to suck life from
she became one dead stalk of thorns
the sun and the moon sighed as one
“laughter has fled
along with the fragrance of spring”
penned in moon dust 