She was a poem he found inside an old history book.
A hidden treasure beneath all the rubble.
She was a light that filled the darkness of his mind.
A gold medal, his own personal medal.
It wasn't until she left that he knew this.
She was a pen and he was no longer her paper.
The worlds once written between them were gone.
Her silver lining would no longer show in the distance.
His light had gone out, his treasure now broken.
His medal had rusted, but he kept the poem,
He kept