I know grief lasts forever
but when does the grieving end
because I terribly miss what once was
even if what once was, was just pretend
there is this echoing void
where the flowers once grew
I guess they also found out the hard way
that there is more coming than what we knew
the butterflies still come by
but their colors seemed to fade
I was never religious, no
but in these moments I have prayed
I think I have experienced ‘kenopsia,’
the atmosphere once bustling, now desolate and empty
I am the only one coming back
even though far away they sent me
what good is a groundskeeper who runs away from his grounds
I cannot abandon this garden I once found
nurtured with my own hands and watered when I weep
enchanted like the promises I promised to always keep
