This is the ending story,
the last page of our fleeting romance,
where happiness confronts
you, right in the face
and tells you how fugitive it is,
that self-growth does not always come
with glee, but also with a price to pay.

Too long,
Too long I point my vision
In awe towards the inexistent flaw
Embedded within the lustrous cracks of your smile
Splitting through the melancholy-infused,
My timeless sunless sky
I tremble,
More than just a sugar rush,
A heaven-sent electric current;
Starts the heart-shaped engine,
Rips through its tendons,
Accelerates, opposing the infirm currents ,
Of the impaired circuit,
Sensitizes it to a form of "life".
The thunder then pounds within the hollow,
Slowly devastates the shallow.
Bruises branch down my neck,
The bolts sink down to my deck,
Engraving everlasting fractal marks ,
Of fractions of whiles,
When I was stone-blind ,
Consumed by the euphoric rush,
Of your broken white lights,
Shocked into submission,
Getting used,
Falling for abuse.
Lightning was your name,
The thunder was your doomed game.
Maybe one end only surges in mortal power,
But the other has fallen, devoured.
Blind, but now I see coherently,
Rewired differently.
My fingertips still trace down the marks,
Till they have memorized their very whereabouts,
But now I embark,
On the journey of focus on my ever-present,
And your ever-absence.
Tainted with specks of your broken light,
My sky then gives birth to ravishing stars,
That decorate the gloomiest of inky skies.
Sometimes the stars fall,
To witness me wishing him away,
Closely hear me say,
The last of my goodbyes;
So long for now,
So long for then.