x marks the spot but you burned your half of the map.

So youth withers into decay
like roses once given away
and I've had enough of yesterday
of ardor that will never stay
and secrets kept, year after year--
so many are planted here
hidden from the one called dear
to my heart forever cohered.
Nothing has changed or is the same;
on yellowed pages, I scrawled a name
still glowing within a lingering flame
a treasure that never shall be reclaimed.