Dead love, oh how it stings,
Like a bird without its wings.
Once soaring high, now brought to ground,
A love that was lost, never to be found.
Once we held it in our hands,
A love that built upon our plans.
But now we see, with tear-filled eyes,
That love can also mean goodbyes.
It's painful, yes, to let it go,
To watch it wither, and fade, and slow.
But sometimes love is just a dream,
A fleeting thought, or a passing stream.
So let us mourn, let us grieve,
For the love that once made us believe.
But let us also remember, with a gentle heart,
That love can end, but it can also restart.
For in every ending, there lies a new start,
A chance to heal, and mend the heart.
And though dead love may haunt us still,
New love can bloom, and bring its thrill.
~•~•~•~