I wrote a short foreword on the wall of her heart. She began to blush for a short while.
Then shortly, she snorted the beautiful words up the nostrils of her heart.
Joy flooded her short soul before sleeping away into the unknown horizon.
I held her like a summer leaf falling into the arms of a sun stricken ground
Quickly carassed her grief stricken pale Soul and embalmed her with tenderness.
Our love was short lived, it tasted ailment before it could crawl out of infancy.
I became a black widower, clad in a black cloth overshadowed with sadness.
I asked the gentle breeze coming from the valley of love that
Where do broken hearts go?
©siyakha
S