I walked a path both dark and wide, where shadows lingered at my side. Each step I took, a fragile thread, tied to the love I should have fled.
The stones were sharp, the wind was cold, their whispered secrets harsh and old.
I felt the cracks beneath my feet, the bitter ache of each defeat.
The trees bent low as if to mourn, their leaves like hands, tattered, torn. Each heartbeat thudded, heavy, slow, a drum of grief I could not throw.
Yet in the pain, a strange insight, a flicker born of endless night.
The path may break, the hearts may bleed, but even loss plants tender seed.
And when the journey folds its years, I gather courage from the tears.
The path to broken hearts is mine, a trail of sorrow turned divine.
