Could a person write,

The tension of night,

Were words uttered in spite?

Even Poetry couldn’t express,

This rising distress,

Of emotions persistent regress;

–

How can I dance the beat,

When even if I compete,

I’m still in defeat?

As if a song,

Would be enough to prolong,

The love that gone wrong;

–

Could a painting,

hide your feeling,

That suddenly withdrawing?

Even the memories our photos taken,

Can’t seem to awaken,

The love you forsaken;

–

If only this is a just some show,

No matter how much sorrow,

You’ll never let me go;

But art is inadequate,

To interpret the state,

Of our love’s ill fate.

*Photo Credits to the owner*