Imcomplete Disarray


I miss the days when our tales were one,
written in a book about us both.
When our stories were intertwined,
but now they have simply unraveled.
So now, with binding torn and remaining pages in disarray,
I am left with one imperfect story.

How could you go,
taking everyone's favorite character along with you?
Without you there is no protagonist,
merely supporting characters sauntering about aimlessly.
How could you leave,
taking the prime part of the storyline with you?
For now that you are gone there is no plot,
just a nugatory and barren setting.

Much better were the days when our tales were one.
So come back, darling, that we may rescript our story
To the way it was meant to be written;
In a novel about the both of us.

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