Was it Love?

You told me I was the only one
For you.
And here I thought everything you said was
Always true.

Naive, I was, or too much in love,
Can't say,
But atleast I kept my promises
All the way.

Now I weep, I wail, I sob, I save,
Each drop that falls
Coz IF you ever come back to me,
I'll show my screams and calls

Every empty pen, each blistered fingertip,
Any frail page I wrote on,
They cried in pain, with happiness,
Until you were gone.

Now I look around these wretched scrolls,
I stand amidst 'em tall
One describes your outer beauty, one real
And me, an empty soul.

Am I to burn, or to celebrate,
These memoirs of our love?
I am tired much, to sit and wait
Help! Oh God, above.