IN THE QUIET SOLITUDE of a dimly lit apartment, he sits at his desk, pen trembling in hand, overwhelmed by memories that pierce like knives. Each line is a futile attempt to revive a love that once filled his life with warmth and joy. His heart, burdened by an unspeakable sorrow, weaves words drenched in grief, crafting a poem that echoes the relentless ache of a love now lost to the shadows of time.
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❝ When you were mine,
the world was whole,
A secret kept within my soul.
Your laughter, like a soft refrain,
Still echoes in the autumn rain.
In words, I trace your fleeting touch,
A memory that haunts too much.
Our moments, timeless as the sea,
Remain alive in poetry.
Though time has slipped and seasons blend,
In every line, our stories mend.
When you were mine,
love's gentle art,
Still lingers in this aching heart.❞
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ON A COLD, BLEAK OCTOBER MORNING Lando had finally found a rare moment of respite. The sky was a canvas of dull gray, clouds hanging heavy and low, threatening rain. The chill outside contrasted sharply with the warmth of the shower, the steam curling around him like a sincere hug. The trees, stripped of their vibrant leaves, stood like skeletal sentinels against the biting wind. Each breath of air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decaying foliage. Yet, as he dried off and settled into a quiet corner to write, a mix of sort of relief and melancholy enveloped him. The sounds of the track felt distant, now replaced by the sound of his beating heart.
His thoughts flowed into a sombre poem, capturing the hidden pains that surfaced in the stillness of his solitary break. The world seemed to be holding its breath, mirroring his own sense of suspended animation as he grappled with the heavy weight of his own fleeting emotions.
As he finished writing, his pen suddenly burst, ink splattering across the page and staining his hands. Frustrated, he rushed to the sink, frantically trying to wash the ink off.
His phone rang insistently, disrupting the silence. With ink-streaked hands and a single tear running down his face, his thoughts began to race at a million miles per hour. He answered the call, his voice catching slightly, "Hello?"
"Hey love, I'm coming over. See you in 20," his fiancée said cheerfully.
He hesitated. "Now's not the best time. I just need to be alone for a bit," he managed to say.
Her response was immediate and firm, "I'm coming over. You need me. At a time like this more than any."
He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed, fighting back more tears. Twenty minutes later, true to her word, she arrived, her cheeks rosy from the cold. "I told you it wasn't a good time," he murmured as she walked through the door, eyeing the bags of groceries and the massive unmissable bouquet of white roses.
YOU ARE READING
SINCERELY YOURS - lando norris
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