“Tonight she is Imogen... and tomorrow night she will be Juliet”
What could depict the feeling of a lover, but the crispy, vibrant scent of a scarlet flower?
Love. Oh, love.
Lover, oh lover.
And... What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
More often than not - love might have a tragic end.
The rose of love has dried down. Just one night passed,
and it looks like a-thousand years.
Crush the dried-down rose in you hands. You will get nothing but dust.
And a beautiful, melancholic memory of how sweet this swiftly-fading romance has been.