That Dark Evening

Photo byMc James GullesonUnsplash

I still remember that dark evening
when we parted ways,
You stood there silently,
the moon watching you—
its pale light tracing shadows
on your face, on the ground,
on the ache between us.

I painted that sadness
across the black sky,
each brushstroke heavier
than the last,
until it covered the universe,
a blanket of quiet grief.

Now, that sadness drifts,
falls softly like ash,
finds its way into the hearts of strangers,
who write and rewrite
the same old ache,
and sadness, again,
creates poets.

Am I the poet created from those dark moment?

Or may be you were my punishment.