It is invisible.

That pain I felt when you closed that door,
when you said those last goodbyes,
when you bid farewell to what I thought was our trust.

Oh heartache, my old friend,
to what do I owe this pleasure
to see you again?

Had I known that you'd tear me apart,
Never would I have given you this art
that I called a heart.

It is invisible.

That little hope you left me
those little dreams you gave me
those tiny plans we made.

My love, did you know?
That I have always known
all the reasons you'd leave me.
But would you also believe me,
If I were to tell you
that I trusted you wouldn't?

It is invisible.

That little possibility of love you showed me.

It is, in fact, very invisible.

Published by Isuri Fernando