Age of August

an elegy for a broken heart

I searched for words amidst fuzzy thoughts,

laboring through the thickets of broken dreams.

I opened my mouth, straining to make a sound

but I heard none, and she is now gone.

 

I only heard the footsteps she took,

certain and firm, just like her resolve.

Her face, the only picture my mind remembers,

is filled with nothing but an empty reminder.

 

The rain now starts to fall, the once

clear sky has clothed itself in the darkest

shades of indigo and black. This is fate,

I whispered in between sobs.

 

I hear nothing but the elegy of the raging

rain. Perhaps I neglected yesterday’s

requiem in the way she said goodbye

on our last late night excursion.

 

This is it, after all.

All alone, after all.

Author's Note

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