In the shadow that our hearts cast,
hatred blooms, a stubborn weed
where a garden of trust once grew .

Words, once tender,
shatter like glass,
a bridge collapsing under weight;
echoes of apologies
falling into silent abyss.

We deceive ourselves,
clutching memories like
fragments of a broken mirror;
forgetting the faces we wore,
the warmth that once held us close,
burying the past
in shallow graves.

A vast network unfurls,
a circuitry of disconnection,
new bridges rise on the horizon,
but the arteries lie severed,
thoroughfares overgrown,
forgotten paths leading nowhere.

We navigate this labyrinth,
the ghosts of what was,
whispering in the dark,
sagely reminding us
that healing is a slow tide,
and that some wounds
will never truly mend.