FOR A TIME

1.

For a time

I was a canvas of pallidness;

eyes dark abysses of nothingness

when they used to dance, glitter like stars above.

Lips curled down,

the blissful sentiments eclipsed by

pitch-black, morbid thoughts;

breathing raked though the chest

where pain sat comfortably.

My heart?

I wondered if I still had one – could I have?

It stopped beating the day

your well-kept secret of eternal love given previously 

walked into my rose-color reality,

shattering it into smithereens.
People cast me friendly smiles,

unsure of what to say,

wary of probing but ultimately 

annoyed at the dark cloud in their midst.
2. 

For a time

the world revolved around you – 

you with your grin that catapulted me to the stars

you with your saunter that sent shivers up my spine

you with your endearing awkwardness 

you with your stubbornness that piqued me

you with your own obsessions that niggled me and

you with your cockiness that put me on edge.
Blind to your cavalier ways,

You emptied me – you cast my heart into a void and frayed my soul into nothingness.

Prayers to heaven to open your heart were

met with silence while copious tears were shed

in my room.

I sat in a corner for a time, a mere shadow

of my former self, not daring to stir.
3. 

For a time

I grieved when you vanish for no rhyme or reason and

wallowed in self-doubt.

Absentmindedly, I caressed the silky texture of pain reposing on my empty shell;

I hurled recriminations at my ghost, cursing and shouting until I was hoarse.

I was a wreck and alone with my withered self.

I viewed Time with enmity – it was my foe.

Or was it? Was my judgment clouded?

Had I dwelled in sorrow for far too long that

I couldn’t see right from wrong, good from bad,

positive from negative?

Like a magician with another trick up its sleeve,

Time dealt me another blow,

revealing its impartiality in Eros’ petulant games –

He is his mother’s son after all.
4.

Bad as a cliché might be,

Time did heal all wounds- gone were the dark clouds,

tears, recriminations, and searing pain.

Your ghosts still traipse through my thoughts,

beguiling me, 

taunting me

but now, unlike before, I watch with stoic detachment,

at the two hazy figures in my past.

This time is different, as Time is on my side,

a steady guide and mentor in Venus’s senescent 

game of hearts.

Shall I fail? Shall I succeed? 

Que sera sera.

I will let Time steer the course – for this time.