The Weight of What Was
Love stands as a specter, silent and grim,
Its promises etched on the fragile rim
Of a trembling heart that dares to believe,
Only to shatter, only to grieve.
Its touch is fleeting, a warm deceit,
A fleeting balm that turns bittersweet.
You drink of its cup, you taste its wine,
Then choke on the dregs, a cruel design.
The smiles it brings, the moments rare,
Are daggers waiting, cloaked in care.
What begins with laughter, soft and pure,
Ends in shadows none can endure.
You’ll carry its weight like an unseen chain,
A quiet ache, a familiar pain.
It whispers of hope, then fades to dust,
Breaking the sacred bond of trust.
So turn from love, let it drift apart,
Guard the quiet of your steadfast heart.
For to love is to fall, and fall you will,
Into the void where time stands still.
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