We Could Have Had It All
If all was failed promises and wilted roses
In the garden of our love, every promise bloomed like a vibrant flower, each petal a vow of eternal devotion. Your words painted a mural of unconditional love across the canvas of my heart, so vivid I could almost touch it. Remember how you’d chase after me, your eyes wild with fear if I dared step away, even for a moment? Your devotion was a constant embrace, warm and secure.
But seasons change, and so do you. Now, the hours endlessly when you’re gone, each tick of the clock a reminder of your absence. When you return, your smile is a mask, your eyes vacant, looking through me as if I were a ghost in our own home.
California dreams danced in my mind — a grand house nestled in the hills, our fortress of solitude. I saw us there, you and I, royalty in our own realm. You promised to sell your past, to build our future, brick by brick, with security and love as our foundation. In this idyllic vision, I’d write to my heart’s content, my creativity unfettered by worldly concerns, while you provided for our paradise.
Yet, like mist dissipating under the harsh light of reality, something shifted. The utopia in my mind began to crumble, each fallen stone a broken promise. My faith in you eroded, your words now as insubstantial as smoke, disappearing into the…
