aftermath | poetry

p i c t u r e o f u s

I have a picture of us. It was taken long time back, when we were in love. We looked happy. We were together. Do you remember that time? We asked an old man to take our photograph, and he told us that we looked great together. That night we couldn't keep our hands off each other.

You held me tight and told me that I meant the world to you. You would do anything to keep me happy. I was yours. You said that we were meant to be, always. Our love would never die out.

Then why did we end up this way? Why did you leave me when I needed you the most?