Not for ailing love
our beautiful balloon, about to burst,
an endless journey meets its sudden end,
forced to tango with our faults.
photographs torn,
glass shards
s c a t t e r e d
in the o p e n.
our roads s p l i t in two,
our bridges burnt,
to let our
~s~~h~~i~~p~~s ~~~s~~a~~i~~l~
toward different
~s~~e~~a~~s~.
winter flakes f
a
l
l cold,
summer sun shines warm;
spring rains c h i l l e d,
the garden l i t t e r e d
with autumn f
a
l
len leaves.
silence now e~c~h~o~e~s your shouts~
footsteps c
l
i
m
bing the stairs,
singing only in dreams.
all our arguments,
our fights,
our joy,
our love,
whisper like the s i l e n t ~b~l~o~w~ of leaves in my memories.
the sky now holds a single star in its vastness,
the desert just a single tree in its emptiness,
e~c~h~o~e~s l i n g e r in hollow canyons.
but divorce shouldn't have been the cure for our ailing love,
it only brought an allergy born of a rotten apple
time always heals wounds,
so it can restore our lost love~
especially when the ~w~i~n~d~s~ are now calm,
and the tide no longer p
u
l
l
s so strong,
and the river finally ~f~l~o~w~s~ in the right direction.
ours is no longer a s h a t t e r e d mirror,
locked behind
a door~
our ~s~~h~~i~~p~
is no longer l o s t
at ~s~~e~~a~.
|