“I love you,”

Was the last thing I wanted to say to you.

Before you walked away

And disappeared with the melting sunset.

When a part of me died with the broken bones

And the cracked ribs that produced an empty sound,

A nostalgic echo with the flawed beats of my heart.

So instead of letting you know,

How much I loved you –

I remained still and I choose to stay.

I stayed like the wrinkles of my bed

That unfolds themselves with your curves

And remains intact even in your absence.

I stayed like the roots of a winter tree

That never lifts up above the ground

And only choose to penetrate within

Until nothing remains to grow.

And I choose to stay,

Like a frozen chunk of ice

Or a heartless bronze statue;

Having a faraway look in my eyes –

Waiting for you to come back.

Waiting for you to turn.

Waiting to forgive you.

Because someone once told me,

That is what love is.