The Untold Stories.

Separation.

A week ago,
Or two,
You held my hand,
as if they were the
thread to your needles,
and told me,
that we were not good enough together,
Not anymore.
Your words
knitted my heart,
not to fix it back into
a whole,
but to pierce it through the existing cracks, even more.
The thought of you
not staying by my side,
at 4 A.M in the middle of the night
had my head buried
into the toilet bowl
and empty my sorrows until the sun decided
to show up.
The next day,
when I woke up,
the bed was cold and so was my heart,
and I realised that you've not returned back, yet.
And while a tiny part of
my soul still hoped
for you to arrive back,
my mind knew
that the sea waves are not
too loyal to always come
running to the sea shore.
Sometimes,
they confide
in the depths of the sea,
and
never kiss the sand, again.