I tell my heart everyday,
every minute, every second
to erase your memories
and the heart does reply too
with a sly yet broken smile,
I could imagine,
whispering your name
in a soft sigh,
a tender ache for what once bloomed.
In the quiet spaces,
it echoes your absence,
A silent plea for a love lost
in time's embrace.
Yet it beats on,
a resilient testament
to our shared past.
YOU ARE READING
MALADAPTIVE ✓
PoetryMALADAPTIVE /ˌmaləˈdaptɪv/ not adjusting adequately or appropriately to the environment or situation.
