This is my first time writing a poem so it doesn't have a name yet

Flowers blooming in the dead of spring. Typically makes the heart spring. However, with this heartbreak. Mine shall only break, remembering what could've been. Once again.

They go on like nothing is amiss. While hearts break, like shattered glass.

As time goes on, maybe they shall bloom, again. Maybe even once more for each other

But for now the cold invades, forcing all hope to suffocate;

No matter the cold shall not, one shall not stop trying. Missing its buttercup, even when buried in the depths of heavy snow.