Of Love Can't Be Spoken

Sometimes, it's for the best to remain as friends.

Six feet under, she buries her love
Coffined in Balsa, found not in sacred grove
A black rose, she carves, on her heart’s mausoleum
A symbol of a love, forever imprisoned

He sees not the death of a love once his
He knows not of the girl’s anguished retreat
Shrouded by laughter, by friendship thus close
Her affection, she seals, with regrets, with woes