The past has since flew up with the wind, taking the memories of September bliss. Loads of unrealities cinch up the spine, as it vividly dresses up unsent words for its author. I choke down the words that I used to utter, and question the how of its worth the sleepless nights.

I recount every gut-wrenching, sweet like honey, river of tears written in my pages. Arguing an answer, "Were you worth the giddy I could get, when you were around, talking on end as I stared into the wall of illusions playing in my head?"

I can’t say, I did. When all the faces of you in my mind were too real to be disputed, on one occassion, falsely denied from the highest of courts. Far-fetched was this a dream, going on loop did my heart ache once more.

I have loved alot to count with just my fingers, hit hard rock thrown at space between what ifs. Yet you weren't here at all, when you painted garlands of daisies that I try hard to water.

The day is surely breaking,
my words hung in silence,
to the author, this unsent letter:
I adored you, from afar where the ocean tries to meet its sea vastly occupying what it could no longer contain. Yet I pray to the heavens, let no one wait upon you. Please, let your love be with no one else.

© hanniele