Bouquet of Ruins

The sky broke open,

umb fingers grasping air,

a couple spins their bright story,

while rain dances between hopes,

each drop a stutter of plans,

slipping through fingers like chance.

Here, I stand,

a shadow watching light,

a bouquet abandoned,

wilted on the grass,

as petals cling to love,

careful as whispers hung in humidity.

In the heart of chaos,

it’s just me, heart racing

to the tempo of their vows,

twisted under the thunder’s roar—

we dreamed of this: the future, bright,

yet I am wrapped in fragments,

a reflection lost in puddles,

where bright moments merge with soggy leaves,

a sullen bouquet now a relic,

a testament to those dreams drenched,

slipping away like the final song.