Who is to blame here when we both stopped picking up calls?
Is it because the lines that connected us have rusted?
Or is it because we both outgrew each other?

My love for you never ran out, even when I was drowning.
You just stopped sending invitations,
and I stopped writing to you.

Our love was as pure as the kisses you burned into my body,
your name engraved within the depths of my heart.
But we ran out of luck and lost it all

why did it begin in the first place?
and then why, it have to end so early?
it was meant to be another lovelorn story,
a story with arcs developing faster than fiction
everything shattered in the blink of an eye
our first conversation, it was all accidental
and so was our fate- it was tragic and unfair

I have this picture of you—or should I say, I own this picture of you—
that I have kept hidden in my chambers,
neither inside my diary nor within a vault,
but frozen in time within my mind.

It is both painful and lovely to watch,
my lingering feelings keeping me tied to it.
Yet, all it brings me now are memories that ache.

"You're sitting and smiling, posing for a picture,
your eyes concealed behind silver glasses.

the twin flame you ignited
and the stares that burned the air
came out fiercely and declared,
'you're in love,'
only to later pierce my heart,
leaving me with wounds that bleed
until i'm in ashes

Blue were my days and nights
when you would check on me,
with late-night conversations
and your playful words about meetings
Is it the days that I miss, or
is it you whom I long for?
This affair was forsaken from the beginning

Fate played its dirtiest tricks on me,
Made me believe "our" and "us" would mean something,
Only for everything to end in the cruelest way possible
I'm still picking up my broken pieces

I had faith in myself, at least
I decided to follow the path my heart paved
I was mocked by destiny
And was finally brought down from the clouds

"Why can't we exist?" I screamed at the night sky
A lot of big challenges awaited with their schemes
I only thought about my love in that moment,
Unaware of the storm that would take away my dreams

am i worthy to be one of your poems?
i see that you call yourself a poet now?
with difference being we no longer write back to each other

regrets, heartbreaks and the hearts that you broke
you paint those lines with the weight you bore
did your heart ever ache on my thought?