A budding writer's collection

In the spotlight of streetlights

I'm passing by flickering streetlights,

The puddle reflects the starry night

Balloons of celebration loom over me,

My doom doesn't impede their bloom.

Yonder lies the bench,

The one where we made promises aplenty,

Wrapping up our hopes in them,

Wishing we could one day seal our fates with "I do"

Yeah, I see that store opposite, honey,

It's still filled with books you adored,

Your note can still be read on the 'Pieces of Poetry',

That board of scribbles is the only altar that withstood our ruin.

Drops of rain, a gentle pitter-patter,

Sheets of rain, the sorrow within found its expression

These eyes fear no judgement,

With their feelings streaming down my cheeks.

Do you think there is a tomorrow,

With you beside me?

Do you think these hands will meet their counterpart,

Within this loan of breath?

Will these eyes witness your toothy grin,

One last time as they seal shut forever?

Don't answer, if it isn't yes.