In the shadows of my heart's inkwell,
Where love's verses once brightly dwelled,
Now linger echoes of sweet despair,
A tragic tale of love laid bare.
Upon the parchment of our dreams,
We penned a love, or so it seemed,
But fate's cruel hand tore us apart,
Leaving naught but tears and a broken heart.
In whispered tones of midnight's breeze,
Our promises danced among the trees,
Yet time, relentless, played its part,
Driving a wedge through this fragile art.
The inkwell weeps its ebony tears,
As memories fade with passing years,
Each drop a testament of what was lost,
A love too beautiful, too high a cost.
In solitude, I seek your face,
But find only echoes in this desolate place,
The quill lays silent, no more to write,
Our love extinguished, swallowed by night.
So here I stand with pen in hand,
A love immortal, but now unmanned,
In the shadows of my heart's inkwell,
Where bittersweet whispers forever dwell.
YOU ARE READING
Verse by Verse
PoetryUnraveling the Tapestry of Emotion and Exploring the Mysteries of the Heart (I'll try to write a poem everyday)
