Not for ailing love

our beautiful balloon, about to burst, an endless journey meets its sudden end, forced to tango with our faults. photographs torn, glass shards s c a t t e r e d in the o p e n. our roads s p l i t in two, our bridges burnt, to let our ~s~~h~~i~~p~~s ~~~s~~a~~i~~l~ toward different ~s~~e~~a~~s~. winter flakes f a l l cold, summer sun shines warm; spring rains c h i l l e d, the garden l i t t e r e d with autumn f a l len leaves. silence now e~c~h~o~e~s your shouts~ footsteps c l i m bing the stairs, singing only in dreams. all our arguments, our fights, our joy, our love, whisper like the s i l e n t ~b~l~o~w~ of leaves in my memories. the sky now holds a single star in its vastness, the desert just a single tree in its emptiness, e~c~h~o~e~s l i n g e r in hollow canyons. but divorce shouldn't have been the cure for our ailing love, it only brought an allergy born of a rotten apple time always heals wounds, so it can restore our lost love~ especially when the ~w~i~n~d~s~ are now calm, and the tide no longer p u l l s so strong, and the river finally ~f~l~o~w~s~ in the right direction. ours is no longer a s h a t t e r e d mirror, locked behind a door~ our ~s~~h~~i~~p~ is no longer l o s t at ~s~~e~~a~.