She didn’t know which way to look after he left her grappling in the dark,
Saying he needed time to figure things out,
Absent mindedly she walked upto the bench in the park,
Where they often spent evenings about,
A whisper, the touch, the whiff of his scent came rushing back,
As soon as she set down her bag,
Onto the old, withered bench that had witnessed many a happy times.
Her lips curled into a smile, painful this time, as she remembered how he had bought her roses red,
That Valentine’s, all night she had tossed and turned in bed,
Relishing the feeling of teenage love,
And watching the stars twinkle above,
Countless such memories came rushing back,
Broken, yet safe, playing up, in her life, his lack.
On lonely evenings she often wondered what went wrong,
Why had monochrome shades swept over? She was supposed to be strong.
Why had his absence made her life halt?
Had it always been her fault?
A week had gone by without a single call,
Oh! When will he come back and break her fall?
With a muddled head she swung open her apartment’s door,
Only to find a letter resting on the floor,
Hastily she grabbed it, only to find the words – “I’m sorry. Please be mine.” written on it.