Dear Diary

 Dear diary

I was at the solitary bench tonight,

I waited for him to come, but he didn't, 

and my heart broke again. 

Today I brought him flowers, 

my allergies acted up, 

but the flowers were for him;

so can you guess

what my heart and the flowers

have in common?

They both wilted when he didn't arrive. 

It must be rich to have a daughter 

whose heart keeps mending;

I remember when I used to wait

and he used to bring me candy. 

He promised me he would never leave me, 

he was supposed to greet me, dear diary, why

did he cancel our meeting, dear diary, why 

would he knowingly let his daughter be lonely, 

doesn't he know she might just drown in the sea?

Do we get another chance

Plato said that each of us are a matching half

of another human whole;

that love makes us search for that half 

which completes our soul. 
Apparently, love is supposed to heal  
the wounds of human nature. 
Meaning that there is only one person
fit for another-
the notion of soulmates
is two unique and one-of-a-kind lego pieces 
that only complement each other, none else. 
 I always used to say that soulmates were like 
          the perfect lock and key, 
           but look, sometimes you lose the key, 
           so the locksmith makes you another one

         and it fits, just like that:

a brand new replacement. 

So what is it then? One for another?

Or do we get another chance at true love? 

there is no one left inside to save