Even if fate were real, it would not be able to fathom;
The idea that we mirrored the reflection of Eve and Adam.
The slithery serpent has manipulated us again,
A match made in purgatory; we were bound to end.
There’s not enough time in the world to pull together a perfect plan,
One where we stay together; head on a beach towel, toes in the sand.
As I walk by, the trees laugh as they sway.
The ground underneath me, sneeringly starts to decay.
And as it turns out, these walls do talk, as they say.
Across the pavement, she drags her feet.
The eyes of a gecko trail up to her own as she accepts her defeat.
I was your Lituya Bay of 1958,
Impactful and indelible, even if you don’t say it.
Insufferable is how you’ve made me out to be.
But you’ve always meant so much more to me.
Before I could grasp the demise of our devotion,
The grief washed over me like high tides in the ocean.
Regret does not begin to express the way my heart aches.
It’s as if I moved too swiftly against a priceless vase;
And I have a front-row view to slowly watch as it breaks.
Leave a comment