Street lights burn amber,
the color of true love,
or is it more a shade of aubergine?
But, brick by brick,
you built a wall
to block it out.
Step by step,
I wove some sunshine into the clouds
and inflated punctured, wounded stars
in a clandestine sky.
No one ever said love was perfect,
or knew that we would ever fall apart,
like shattered diamonds in the rough.
© Connie Song 2021. All Rights Reserved.
