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Answer:

In the hush of the cemetery, where shadows linger long,

I stand alone, surrounded by silence, singing a mournful song.

A year has passed, my love, since you left this earthly shore,

A year of longing, of missing you, a year, and maybe more.

I bring a bouquet of roses, each petal a whispered prayer,

To the place where you rest, under the soil so fair.

A garden of memories blooms within my heart,

As I walk these sacred grounds, where you and I did part.

The wind carries echoes of our laughter, once so bright,

Now replaced by the solemn whispers of this quiet night.

I trace the letters on your tombstone, etched in cold stone,

Each curve, each line, a testament to a love forever known.

The roses in my hands, like the moments we once shared,

Their fragrance lingers, a bittersweet perfume in the air.

I close my eyes, and there you are, in the garden of the past,

A tapestry of memories, too beautiful, too vast.

Do you remember the sunsets, painting the sky in hues?

Or the whispered promises, exchanged beneath the moon?

Our love, a symphony, played on strings of tender grace,

Now echoes in the stillness, in this desolate space.

I feel the warmth of your presence, though you're far away,

A love that transcends, even death can't betray.

But tears stream down my face, as I kneel beside your bed,

For the reality is stark, my love, you are truly dead.

I remember the days when your laughter filled the air,

Now silence echoes, and it's more than I can bear.

The roses tremble in my grasp, as memories flood my mind,

A river of emotions, too tumultuous to be confined.

Our love was a tapestry, woven with threads so fine,

Now unraveling, as I stand alone by your shrine.

I place the roses gently, a symbol of love that won't decay,

Yet their beauty pales before the memories that stay.

I whisper to the wind, my words a lullaby,

Hoping that in some way, you hear my desperate cry.

The cemetery is a canvas, where our story is inscribed,

A tragic tale of love, of how our destinies were bribed.

A year has passed, my love, but the pain is still so raw,

I visit your resting place, feeling every flaw.

The roses wilt, like my hopes, in this desolate abode,

As I linger in the graveyard, where your body was bestowed.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting shadows on the stone,

A metaphor for my heart, in this realm so alone.

I turn to leave, my steps heavy, my soul worn,

Leaving behind the roses, a love forever torn.

Answer:

If I'd never met you,

I wouldn't feel the pain

Of losing your sweet love;

I wouldn't feel insane.

But if I'd never met you,

I wouldn't know the pleasure

Of ecstasy's warm gifts

And memories to treasure.

Now moving on with life,

I force a wistful grin,

Questioning what went wrong,

Wondering what might have been.