Yesterdays whisper of a tale untold,
A story, of love I couldn't hold.
A girl worth more than her weight in gold,
And a nobody with nothing but words to mold.

She was the moon to my shadow, the night to my dusk,
A flower among the weeds, in a world so brusque.
If time was made of color, she'd be my golden hour.
If skies could spill secrets, she'd be that gentle shower.

Her laughter was music, drawn from the heaven.
She was that wish I made at 11:11.
Built castles of hope on the sands of our fate,
She had slipped through my fingers, that I learned too late.

Oceans conspired, kept us apart,
Distance and waves tore at my heart.
I still hold her like she wants me,
Got a ghost of her that haunts me.

I'd say hold her while you can, cherish every embrace.
For love, once lost, leaves nothing but an empty space.
The dreams I had crafted, now ashes in hand,
A truth so cold, I can't seem to stand.

I stand beneath the twilight, collecting regret,
The lines of our story, I’ll never forget.
She gave up the fight, while I stood in the fray,
Holding onto the love that slowly decayed.

Surrounded by a pool of crumpled dreams,
The might-have-beens, the unspoken themes.
With years in my soul, but wrinkles in heart.
A bleeding pen rests on a paper parched.


© Karthik Chyawan