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Still life

In the depths of my wounded heart, pages torn,
A story of separation, forlorn.
Once set, our date, like ink on paper,
But the hand of fate, an unwelcome caper.

A day before love's holiday embraced,
Our paths diverged, emotions displaced.
A letter she wrote, now turned to ash,
Love's testament burned, its memories dashed.

She sought reconciliation, seeking peace,
But within, love's flame began to cease.
Her words, a mask for a heart that strayed,
Love's ties unraveled, bonds decayed.

For a month, she called, regretful voice,
Yet within me, I knew the choice.
The day arrived, we faced our truth,
Melodies played, carrying wounds of youth.

"Why was the story left incomplete?"
I questioned, pain's echo, bittersweet.
Distances vast, like a chasm's expanse,
Songs whispered, haunting in their dance.

Those melodies, like ghosts, lingered near,
Repeating memories I once held dear.
Other chapters rewritten, tales released,
But her words lingered, a wound not eased.

Her revelation, a blow to my core,
Her old crush returned, love's door once more.
Alas, she won the game of our farewell,
Leaving me broken, trapped in love's spell.

In the aftermath, regret lingers on,
A love turned to loathing, a bitter song.
I realized my love, though unrequited,
But what if she returns, the flame reignited?
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