INTROVERSION

You remained as a poem I never wrote
within the book of my rusty thoughts.
My fountain pen then pushed my hand
to create a love song that no one sang.
The blue ink swallowed my very first word
as it knows it is something absurd.
My pen rushed to a shining daylight
but you resemble the evading twilight
I wrote about the rainbows we chased
but I didn’t mention the rains you missed.
Long journeys… to small paces;
swing sets… to rollercoasters.
I lied within every single line
to show a “forever” which we never align.
Because….
“Love is all about letting go” is what you taught me.
And… you still remain as a poem I never wrote!

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