Poetry
An Unpublished Work


I wanted this to be the one, the only lasting feeling - I wanted to be immortalized in her love.
I wanted my kisses to linger on her skin, my touch to sink into her bones.
I wanted my words to be etched into the fabric of her thoughts, the echo of my voice pervading the silence of cold, lonely nights.
I did not want the comfort of our warm embraces or the heat of our passion to fade away.
But in the end, all things must come to an end.
For everything, including us, is ephemeral.

My fingerprints have faded and been replaced by someone else's.
My words are nothing but inconsequential syllables that have disappeared from her consciousness.
My voice is a half-forgotten tune of a time she has left behind.
The warmth we shared has seeped away, leaving a barren wasteland of cold and empty nothingness in my heart.

Perhaps I was only a story in her lifetime of love, but to me, she was the entire fairytale...
Only our story had no happily ever after.
I wanted to write countless volumes and new editions...
But instead I am left writing an epilogue for an unpublished work.
There is no happy ending to this tale –
This story is for those who reread their memories, and trace the patterns of their old scars only to find that these words are not the past, but a haunting present that refuses all attempts to be forgotten.