Promise Me

The night is silent, too quiet for comfort.

I drift in and out of sleep, tossing and turning,

In cloud-like covers, burrowing deep.

The dreams filter through, much like a movie scene,

Written for me, reaching out to you.

I sit with myself, lost in the moment,

Realizing there is no hate in me, no anger to vent.

I hope that the reasons given were sober, honest, and true,

That I was not, for a second, played for a fool.

Wishing the end was at least fair, than of a sudden climactic jolt in the air.

That I was given a choice, than a final word that felt like a crashing ball.

I’d like to believe that every moment was real, every word undeniable and deep.

That the claim and vow of how that life was over, meant that it was,

Determined to start clean and anew.

How it was promised that you will always search,

And find what had been lost,

No matter the distance and what the cost.

You asked for space, an infinite chasm was built.

With no wasted time, you disconnect,

Like a desperate secret, yet there seemed to be no guilt.

From forming a pact of heart and mind intertwined,

To breaking the mirror that reflected memories and the future in kind.

From saying my name, whispered tenderly like home,

To only one thing that mattered, then and now — everything that is of your own.

Yet there is no anger, no hate in me.

Only empty sadness and, yes, love, however it can be.

I pray and believe that we were no mistake, that the Universe has great plans.

One day, when the stars reconnect, perhaps it will no longer be by chance.