A confession too late

Betrayed and broken hearted he carved into his blood that "Love is like a rose":
At one time so passionate, yet its elegance gives up and slowly goes,
it lures the vulnerable heart, teasing it with a tainted disquise.
creating an illusion, whispering lying lullabies.
And without warning, its forgiving beauty will fade and the petals start to fall.
Engraved on his tombstone was his last breath: "Maybe it wasn't love after all."

Alone and left behind she writes to him her goodbye, "True love is like a dried out rose":
when we refuse to give up on its passion, the elegance forever shows,
Testing the heart of vulnerability, prooving its faith by seeing through its disquise.
Creates an illusion of heaven, even its flaws are perfection in your eyes.
If you're forgiving, that beauty can be held onto and its petals will eternally shine.
Engraved in her whisper directed at the tombstone: "If it really was love in your heart-why couldn't you feel mine?"