If it wasn't against council regulations By aaron89 If it wasn't against council regulations I'd plant roses on your grave. What better way to be alive than to be brought up from below the sodden earth and unfurled, briefly, in the sunlight. Because my memory fails when it tries for beauty. I don't remember the tender moments, alone together, sweet, so sweet. I just remember you naked at the piano while I lay in bed drinking the coffee I never told you you burnt and cringing at the Chopin I never told you you butchered. But memory must suffice, and so I move on and look forward, and I tell people that I loved a boy, and he was beautiful, and we'll always have the Nocturne in E-flat Major.