A budding writer's collection

Another chance for another dance

Six months have passed by,

I'm sitting at the same park bench.

It's raining, the drops creating a symphony of pitter-patter.

Teardrops flow, inconspicuously, joining the band in their merry.

That's the beauty of sorrow, it hides even in the happiest of moments,

Ready to erupt even at the tiniest of signs.

That rainy day, you remember, don't you?

Getting looks by passersby, glint of annoyance in their eyes,

But I swore I could see their amusement too,

As we were howling with laughter.

Even the little things seemed funny

When our glasses were tinted red.

That walk under the protective arm of the umbrella,

Our hands locked in a bond of intimacy,

The giggles and the shameless flirts,

It was supposed to be a fling.

Now why am I sitting here composing myself?

Why does every breath of mine turn into a sob?

Why does my heart beat echo the void?

You are caged in a faraway land,

Chasing knowledge, living a lie.

Do you gaze at the same beautiful moon,

Or do you cry yourself to sleep, burdened by the thought?

Does every rainy day bear a sharp reminder of our failing,

Or does it leave you smiling, reminiscing our short-lived spark.

Do you seethe with rage at the sight of blushing lovers,

Or do you find yourself imagining someone new to share that feeling with?

Do your mornings start with a cup of regret,

Or do you open the curtains, hope gleaming in your eyes?

Please tell me you miss me like I do you,

Please tell me you breathe with a stone in your heart,

Please tell me there's a wound in your throat, a crack in your eye's dam,

Tell me that job with a six-figure wouldn't mean anything,

If your nights don't end with me by your side.

Let me know this feeling isn't intense just for me.

Why don't you catch the first flight tomorrow and meet me at the airport?

Why aren't you packing your bags to meet, like I am?

Give me a sign, love, and I'll let go of everything.

Say there's a light at the end of this tunnel and I'll rest my head on your shoulder.

I knew the ending and yet I chose our story,

Throwing caution to the wind,

Turning a blind eye to our inevitable demise.

Maybe there's a chance to revive us,

I'm not letting this go,

Not without trying with all my might,

Together, we'll rewrite our story's end.