A slender hand wiped away that tear,
And every love she lost was hurt sheer.
She strode alone between trees of maple,
With each love lost, she died a little.

The feelings that felt her, made her feel exposed,
She had never knew, that each time was so close.
The closeness of another heart's warmth yet glacial,
With each realization, she died a more than little.

Someone to talk to she truly did need,
Alone she was. Tired she was indeed.
She hung her head low, the rain was now a drizzle,
With everything she felt, she died a little.

She wished she was never so small,
She heeded his every need, his every call.
She sees now, how she was too vulnerable,
With each thought of him, she died a little.

She stood alone, wondering in silence,
If it was true, that bliss was ignorance.
She cried suddenly, her sobbing uncontrolable,
For she was still dying, little by little.