The Regret

You used to spam my nights with your stars, But I burried them. You used to spam my days with the roses, But I threw them away. Until I realize that you were the only one who gave me your stars when you needed lights. You were bleeding while picking the roses you gave me. And I tried to dig the stars I've burried, But they've been digged by someone else. I tried to pick the roses I've thrown, But they've been picked by the same person. I was too late. Now the regret is all in me.