The Banal Vernality of Love

The break of dawn
reminds her of her broken heart.

Sleepless eyes wandering
in search of her sweetest heart.

Striving to keep her promise to her best friend,
she pushes out of bed to kickstart - 

the day that lies ahead looming,
cold and unwelcoming for the most part.

The sun reminds her of his smile,
nine alarms - of how, her sleep, he would outsmart,

coffee - of his brown eyes,
the wall clock - counting their time apart.

Little things that reminded her of his very being;
Perhaps memories were the glue to her broken spare parts.

Fickle and skittish her mind was, or was it - 
Aprosexia - that kept bleeding her heart?

Maybe everything was fair in love and war,
maybe that's why they were ruled by the same goddess - Astarte.

And maybe she had lost the vernality of her youth
to the banality of an unremarkable love that fueled her art.

– Rutuja R.

NaPoWriMo – Day Two