"Which is loveliest in a rose?
Its coy beauty when it's budding,
or its splendour when it blows?"
Today, the roses didn't bloom in the grey city, instead they whispered your untimely demise. Numb yet aware, I managed to comprehend. So, I silently turned to the most graceful one and asked, ‘before indulging myself into taciturnity, please tell me where to send my moans ?’ I've promised you my grieving, no' ! So, if I keep to my side of the bargain, will you promise me to scroll your gorgeous scented buds open into large, deep colorful blooms with the most perfect, flawless curves ? Will you promise to explore your new world, vividly though ?
Don't try to make any difference, just move forward.
Fair enough ?