In the depths of my heart, a poem did reside,
A tribute to you, my dear, with love as my guide.
But alas, my soul was wounded, my spirit torn,
For I discovered you, my muse, were not as I had known.
Like a gentle breeze, you swept into my life,
With words so sweet, like honey, easing every strife.
I painted you in verses, with colors bright and true,
But now I see, my dear, you wear a different hue.
Oh, how my heart aches, as I read the lines I penned,
For they speak of a love that I thought would never end.
But now I know, my dear, you belong to another,
And my dreams of us together, they shatter and smother.
Yet still, I find solace in the beauty of my verse,
For poetry, my dear, is a balm that can nurse.
It heals the wounds, it mends the broken heart,
And helps me find strength, to make a fresh start.
So let this poem be a testament to love's pain,
A reminder that hearts can break, but still regain.
For though you may be someone else's, my dear,
I'll cherish the memories we had, and hold them near.
And as I move forward, with pen in hand,
I'll write new poems, on a different strand.
For love is boundless, and inspiration will arise,
In the depths of my soul, where a poet never dies.
