cold breeze
touches her skin
lovable scent
of coffee is
what he'd seen

blissful talks,
walks,
and songs

unsaid thoughts
resonates within
their inner selves
for what could
she have upheld

unheard words
untouched hands
unloved hearts
no such thing
as "relationships"
can tear them
apart

was it he
or is it her?
there's nothing
more
she can infer.

well, he, as always,
has all the freedom,
unbroken wings,
untamed boredom
from some
thoughts,
yes, "some"

but what about
"she?"
it was he
him, all along
now, what's this for?
basically, she's torn
is it her,
was it she,
is it him,
or he?

even if
the stars can't
grant
my wishes

even if
superlatives
can't stitch those
broken pieces

even if
freedom
can embrace those
lived boredom

i still care
for this pair

i still live
for this "she"

i still thrive
for whatever it is
that he will leave
behind.