A/N: I do not own Hetalia.
A maple-flavoured romance,
A beer-tainted sigh,
A façade carefully put on,
But not for their pride.
A façade hiding pain in both parties,
The bitter aftertaste of maple,
The pounding hangover of beer.
Their romance is not exactly perfect, but not too flawed.
They themselves are torn up,
They themselves are shredded
They themselves, a bitter fate,
Find themselves destined.
Their love is pure,
A maple glue,
Filling the cracks and sticking them together,
A swig of beer,
That dulls the pain,
For now, if not forever.
They can hold each other together,
Even if they are in pieces,
Embracing each other's scars,
And making a pact together.
More permanent than the buzz of liquor, more solid than the thickest maple syrup,
A pact of love, a pact of trust,
Even if the rest of the world forgets,
Even if the rest of the world can't see,
They will have each other, and for that, they can be.
