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Cherry blossoms. Starry nights.
Your hands. My heart.

The spectre of your love haunts me,
coating every single moment in a veil of catastrophe.
What a devastating mess you’ve left in your wake.

Time heals, but not completely.
Leaving us fractured and delicate and weary,
just enough to prod the memories of those fleeting moments.

Under the same stars. Pink blossoms swirl.
My empty hands. Your lonely heart.

#ProsePoetry #MyWords #poem #AmWriting #writing

(Originally posted this on my writing account, but reposting here for vibes.)