Our eyes met, and a new world began.

Let there be love—

and there was.

It bloomed in silence,

gentle and pure,

a universe born between your gaze and mine.

The first day brought light.

Trust rose like morning,

soft and unthreatened,

a promise written across the sky.

The second carried laughter.

We wove a bond out of whispers,

our joy stitched into the fabric of time,

each smile a foundation,

each breath a vow.

By the third, hearts opened wide.

I let you walk the gardens of my soul,

where my fears lay hidden like shadows,

and you called me whole.

But the fourth grew heavy.

Your words, once golden,

rang with echoes I could not trace,

and doubt tiptoed quietly into the garden.

The fifth brought silence.

The light in your eyes dimmed,

and distance stretched long,

like a serpent coiling in the grass.

The sixth revealed the fruit.

You bit the apple,

and from your lips I tasted

a sweetness laced with venom,

a love poisoned in disguise.

On the seventh, peace collapsed.

The garden trembled,

and I—

I was left to gather the ruins of what we had built.

You were the Adam to my Eve,

but this time you deceived me.

You said I was your missing rib,

yet I am the one left empty.

You bit into the apple the serpent offered,

consuming the venom hidden within.

And now your hands, once mine,

tend to weeds that choke what we planted.

Your actions have left me in pain,

watering the garden with the grief distilled by my eyelids.

I plant my hurt like seeds in the soil,

and cover the nakedness of my heart

with the fallen leaves of my pride.