Sync.

Sync.

I seem to be on repeat,
in the nostalgia;
of how our symphonies,
danced together in a perfect sync,
like our souls would interlink.
Weather in  jolly or melancholy,
or absurdly in name of folly!
We wanted the world,
in our hands,
our tunes in winds;
were like foot prints in sands.
We would dance all night;
to the steady beat,
as life Played;
our love song on repeat.
But who knew, that one fine day,
a huge wave would rattle my walls,
and bring the fire to my dreams,
to a stand still-stall.
Dread crawled my bones,
As I heard your voice choke on the microphone.
Do you still hate me?
That I released you;
from the shackles of my heart,
my love could'nt see you fall apart.