The Axe and the Tree

You stood there, eyes averted, cold,
As I begged, my heart a million fold.
“Give me a couple of days to think,” you said,
As though my soul could rest its head.

You spoke in silence, as if a blade,
A cutting word, a love betrayed.
I pleaded, reached for what we had—
But you, too lost, could not feel sad.

Time, they say, will ease the ache,
But all it does is stretch and break.
Days drag on in a hollow sky,
I wait for answers, and wonder why.

“What forgets is the axe and not the tree,”
A saying that now haunts me.
You, the axe, struck clean and swift,
While I, the tree, must bear the rift.

You severed roots, then walked away,
Leaving me to bend and sway.
A couple of days? Just time to bleed,
While you, unscarred, are free to leave.

Still, I wait, though weary now,
Wondering how I’ll heal this vow.
You may forget, but I will stay,
A tree that's broken—standing anyway.