lost love
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Martyred saint,Cupid’s arrow—Lost in flight,A vision narrow. Lover’s dream,Divorcée’s scheme,‘Til death we vowed,Then tore the seams. Better to love and lose, they say,Than never love at all—A hollow phrase,That left me small. I type and think of you,Wishing none of it were true.Yet time makes spaceFor history’s embrace. I smile at memoriesI still chase.
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I am an ugly piece of art. That’s what my phone screen blinked in the text box. Next to it, her portrait—the love of my life. Blonde-haired royalty, her head tipped back in laughter, the weight of her beauty too much for her to bear. Or maybe just too much for me. I had
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“Trust, if it ever truly existed, hangs by a thread—a spiderweb filament stretched thin between two points: you and me. Once, we were tethered by chains forged in shipyards, strong and unyielding. Now, those chains have snapped, leaving us adrift, floating farther apart toward horizons we’ll never share.“ The rain falls softly outside, but
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Part I: The END. If only you had wanted to read what I had written for us, I’m certain our story would have had a different ending. Part II: (Body) But here I am, still writing, each word a paper boat set adrift on a river that no longer leads to you. Pages pile like
BB Grey--musings 