Sleepy fella





Deep inside, we're... kindred spirits... you... and I..

The flowers once stood tall, vibrant and full of life, much like the time we shared—soft petals brushing against the warmth of the sun, roots tangled deep beneath the soil. But as time passed, the colors began to fade, the stems grew weak, and the petals, once kissed by morning dew, curled inward, brittle and dry. We tried to hold on, to water what was already wilting, but us, like flowers, cannot thrive on neglect. The whispers of the wind became silence, the touch of the breeze turned cold, and before we knew it, the garden we built had withered away, leaving only fallen petals and the aching memory of what once bloomed.