What Could Be...

I spoke in colors, vivid and bright,

Hoping you'd see my soul alight.

You answered in shades of gray, it seems,

Whispering autopilot dreams.

Your past, a string of fleeting ties,

Left echoes in your distant eyes.

But I am not a fleeting flame,

I crave the love that burns, not wanes.

I thought you sought the depth I gave,

A shared connection, bold and brave.

But maybe passion's a foreign hue,

And I was always alone in view.

Now I hold the weight of "what could be,"

A love that lived, but just in me.

I’ll mend this heart, though torn apart,

And guard its fire—still full of spark.

~RMC