Sweet nothings

Harvest our love,
No matter the season

Till and cultivate the soil
Of our young fertile hearts

Not in vain
And with no pain
Like our love had a reason

Supposed, you were,
To keep me warm with your love,
Your touch that's kept us alive;
Replaced,
By too much inactions and unspoken words.

Instead you've left me
Whispering
Soft,
Sweet nothings to myself.

How can you you say look back,
When you've left me with an empty shelf?

2013