All our seasons pass,
Even,
These weathers don't last.
That I count my love for you, and I,
I keep counting, counting.
.

I count till I can almost,
Feel the edges.
It's really here. It's,
The Ending of our story.
.

So our seasons change faster now.
.

Once,
In the spaces between these fingers,
I thought only yours would fit but,
What we think and What we are,
.
Is often different since the start.
.

√
And although life without you is out of color,
That the roads we once traversed,
Dear somnolent, hearty beloved.
Are now Grayer with our damaged hearts.
.

I Can
Finally see,
These brighter ends,
At the edge of my sight,
I Can finally see,
Something
a little more bright.

Than we were
Than we are.
Than we were meant to be.

So I take out my stitching needle,
And I take out my Ripper.
And I rip the last knots of this sweater,
That binds me so close to you.

I rip out our moments,
I rip out your laughs,
That you laughed.
And that one morning breakfast,
That we had.

I rip out your scent,
I rip out those fries,
And that special seat we had,
That we always found empty, and sat.

Π
And then I rip out your promises,
And the way you tilted your head when you laughed.
I rip them all out, still weeping,
With these unsteady hands.

And then finally,

I rip out your smile,
Starting from the corners first,
With the hardest of efforts,
The slowest of movements,

I take it all in,
One last time,
One last look at your blurring Face
Until it floats away.

√

I sew it up with Peace,
That mama gifted to me.
Right before I broke down,
Right before it was too late.

And I take an eraser,
And muster up my courage,
I gather my sticks, I gather my stones,
And knock at the door of Fate.

I break the doors down,
Bruised and damaged,

Hurting

Heaving with anger,
Till the light enters me
.

I find my book,
Hidden among the most hidden of shelves.

•
As I tear out our pages,
And rewrite my own.

Π

I write,

That finally the lone wolf howls,
In the lightless night.
Exhausted from the recurring fights,

Though he Loved,
With all his might,
Alas, now his beloved,
Is out of sight.

In the darkest cave, Lay in wait,
A lone wolf defeated by fate.
Life in its essence,
Held his mystery great.

When a single purple feather, Glided down,
The poor Wolf could not help but frown.
For his precious little Robin,
Could not stay.

√
And just before fate takes me Away,
Before it snatches our book Away,
√

I write and I write,
After thinking for days,

√
That His precious little bulbul,
Would not stay,
It had no longer a reason to stay.
It came when it was wounded,
When it healed, it would not stay.
.

It said it'll find a way

.
So the pretty little robin,
Went astray.
.
It found a lover,
.

And it flew away.
.
I write this end,
With the heaviest of hearts,
I guess it was meant to be,
Since the start.

That the world would now see,
How bonds wilt away,
That the world may see,
How true love grows stale.

I write this ending,
Before I fade away,
To the darkest of corners,
Where fate drags me today.

√
That the hardest of hearts,
Melt with love,
Dear people.

The hardest of souls,
Soften with care.

But scarred is the heart,
That does not receive

Hardened is the soul,
When love decays.

M.Z