1.41 a.m.

You left
our stories intricately intertwined
The first lattice not by hand
or conscious design
I, below the banyans, oaks, pine
for day before's tomorrow.

I left
my heart amongst the flowers
you once walked
The fragments tinkle in summer showers
else suffocate in a time capsule, dusty, locked
Above the solitude a pain towers
as I try not to be too shocked
by the sudden gashes in happiness
which now bleed into sorrow...