Was It Love?

The bridge, and mystery is left behind,

the mystery is wrapped by forest.

The last time I saw him, 

he crossed the bridge, 

forever gone, and only left 

he left the notion of well being,

disguised by water lilies.

We burnt the bridges,

and all I have to satisfy myself,

are water lilies.

The color green, rebirth, a new beginning.

The pond,however, keeps me back in time,

allegedly it is a mirror,

reflecting his celestial appearance.

Oh, the lilies,

exude mephitic scent,

his scent,

that used to be the most delightful.

Despite the color green, there is no new beginning,

and I am victimized by him forevermore.

I am feeling blue,

just like Claude Monet painting his blue water lilies.

The canvas depicts my soul,

monotonous and dull,

wrapped by the gloomy color blue.

But I assume,

I just became half-blinded,

or purposefully refuse to spot,

that after all Monet adorned the canvas,

by lifelike colors,

eliciting the will to live.

Unfortunately, I drowned among the lavender water lilies,

before I realized the world does not evolve around him.