he would write her a song

and she’d love his passion, his burnout and his threaded heart that he built to give away.

but where is that now? where is the dedication crafted from the core? the genuine love and desire

the wings that the significant other willed to wear?

where flowers and maggots are now blooming from the dead, a rising moonlight coated with an unapologetic egoism..

it’s all gone

you’re gone

because she is gone

because he is gone

the threaded heart has been cut with a fog, a fog so overlooked and mistaken that betrayed you, me, us.

a fog so deep that made you question your soul, your heart, your mind, humanity.

a fog so thick that made you lie even when awake in misery, rejection.

a fog so sick that made you cry when the sun hits your lore.