Written by: romeo naces


Shrugging it off, 
      believing she eventually 

he passed up on 
      a chance to be truly 

Meantime, fond 
      feelings wither away, 
            grow stale and old

like unfinished dish,
      abandoned, still out there, 
            now cold.

Twin half-empty wine 
      glasses stand sad 
           on the table;

and in due time, 
      neither he nor she
            would be able

to recall what saw them 
      through the storm and 
            through the frost,

the love they  both 
      let loose, let go, 
            and forever lost !