When she said she wouldn't leave me,
Her words reflected love and affection.
But when,
she finally did,
I realized,
That I was nothing more to her,
Than her favorite pass-time.
She left me broken,
She left me disheartened,
I couldn't explain the situation,
I couldn't control my feelings.
Nights were spent crying,
And days were spent dreaming.
My heart turned stone,
But it was once made of gold.
Is it alchemy,
Or just a sense of perfidy?
The days are already bygone,
But my soul still feels scattered all along.
Small pieces of it calling out in disorder,
Waiting long enough to be put in order.
I will try my best,
To move on,
To forget.
I can force my mind to that,
But who knows about this stubborn heart.
Any and all suggestions are welcome. Thanks.