The Seasons of Hers

A part of me is gone.

He comes as a citrus in the summer
and felt like a rose in the spring
but came dressed as a hurricane

Isn't it funny if he's the one
I'm gonna miss the most?
yet he's the one that never be mine
at all

He was the man whose smile
as an ocean in the winter
and dawn in the fall
but talked as a tale
of the nightmare

Though he whispered
to not hurt myself
beneath this cruel scent of love