Seung-Woo, the fruit ripens;
Cherry, plum, gourds on vines.

I made the baskets we need.
They will last our lifetime.

Seung-Woo, I flowered;
You picked me among all.

Here in our little house
We will flourish and gather.

Seung-Woo, our fruit ripens.
Come the harvest season

I will give you a son.

to be lasted over, but never met.
to be desired fiercely, but never held.
a fantasy. a fetish.
they see you as a threat.

they dream the dream of your idea,
all you represent.
they reach to touch you freely,
but flinch when you touch back.

because they feel it:
your wholeness is too heavy
to carry on their back.
your layers too tangled
to play with just one thread.
your words anchor too deeply
to catch in fishing nets.

you scare.
you amaze.
you trigger.
so they retreat instead.

they give up before even trying
to walk a mile with you.
because they see
the space you take
just being you.

I tried hard to forget,
never to look back,
not to stay still, but move on –
Yet, all roads lead me
back to your heart.

You went away from my life,
now, you are out of my sight,
but you continue to reside in my heart.

My world is not yours anymore,
your heart doesn't feel my love anymore,
you have shut me out of your life,
erased all my memories of the past.

Yet...all my efforts failed me,
for all the roads lead me
back to your heart.

You didn’t slam the door.
You didn’t scream.
You just…
stopped arriving.

No final word,
no cracked goodbye.
Just space
where you used to be.

Grief didn’t knock—
it slipped in
through the silence
and made itself at home.

I still set the table for two,
in my mind.
Still expect your voice
in rooms
you never returned to.

How do you mourn
someone
who never said they were leaving?
I keep replaying the last moment
we shared
like it was meant to mean something.
But maybe it was just…
a Tuesday.

You left like smoke—
no shape,
no sound,
just scent on my clothes
and a burn I can't place.

Lonely, I feel some times
I am like a mime
Invisible to everyone
I don't get it, no one tells me the reason

Oh broken wings
How far we have fallen
with that toxic dart
Cupid smite
us a mighty blow
placing my heart on snow
she smiled for a while
floating on air
naked and bare, barely there
oh broken heart
how far have we fallen
Ginger and Fred,
Freddie a stare
Cupid's dare,
feathered a crow
Icarus moaned
broken arrow
popsicle toes.

The black fabric clings  
to my dampened skin  
in this oppressive heat,
while the sun beats down,
indifferent to my grief,  
making my loss heavier to bear.

I wear this darkness  
on the outside now,  
while the emptiness of loss  
ironically thrives within.  
How strange it is that colours speak  
what words I dare not say.

Black is not just a colour,  
but the weight of something lost,  
the saddest shade, absent of light,  
offering no relief in return, 
as I long for cooling breezes
that I cannot feel.

In this attire of sorrow,  
I walk through sunny days  
as a contradiction,  
I am a gloomy shade  
amidst summer's lively scenes,  
wearing my grief on my sleeve.

©️Lizzie Bevis