The roses you gifted me are still beautiful, it's really a wonder. They're a slightly deeper hue of red, but they're not withered, nor wilted in the least sense. The largest one of the dozen remains as red as my lips, rather red if you ask me. Although, these beauties of nature remains, our relationship does not, and I regret ever making that decision. Yet, laissez-faire is the way I must go. I won't beg, nor plead. I want you back, but I shall not impose upon you my wishes.
I genuinely cared about you, but what more can I do?
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