A pitch-black room filled with silence sets aside an abundance of capacity to reopen the wounds
You chose to walk away from.
For the first time in what seems like an eternity,
The Sun made an appearance. Birds sang songs to the rhythm of the wind and I wonder if you Heard their music the same way as I did, I wonder if their symphony reminded you of how our Love harmonized without intention or thought.  
Perhaps you have forgotten the mechanics of what our love once was and only when it rains do You encounter the meager ache in your chest from the conception of myself.
Wherever you are, I apprehend that the Sun rises consistently with a power that warrants your Mind to dismiss any memory consisting of the two of Us.
Here, there is darkness and there is Night-
A pitch black room filled with silence that sets aside an abundance of capacity to reopen, over And over again, the wounds you chose to walk away from.