this is not
a love story
not another
desperate plea
for acceptance
not me
opening my heart
to another
empty room
the beat of the dessication
in time
with the ebbing silence
unseen
unheard
uncaring
this is my love
turning into a cicada
burying itself
in the cold soil
for seven years
awakening to find
it is out of sync
with any potential match
gripping the bark
while screaming
out to the void
yet never hearing
a song
in return
this isn’t a love story
no sonnet
nor ode
just a good bye
as the ground
settles back
on top of me