Every time, he'd carve
into the bark
of each tree that he loved
her to the sun and back,
and every night, he'd write
how he was intensely struck
by an inescapable delight
that was love,
how her laughters and smiles
always reminded him
that he obtained
a great, great luck,
and that she was
the best gift
in his life
he could ever have.
But one night,
when he tried to scribble,
his pen he held tight
wouldn't move,
his hand
felt numb and feeble,
you would hear
the deep sighs that he hove.
He thought of her
and her eyes so tender,
but lines wouldn't construct
in his mind.
He thought of the times
they've been together,
but words couldn't
together bind.
He no longer cared;
he no longer wanted to stay,
Their love remained
just a phase in their lives,
Two hearts have parted
along the way,
the moment he ran out
of words and lines.
