This is the hundredth poem I write to you,
Most probably not the last nor the least,
Some I had to throw away,
Some I didn’t finish, but some?
Some I didn’t even start cause tears
Yes tears, formed their way earlier than expected
Just like it did, took you unexpectedly.
With the hope you were gon’ come back,
I wrote,
With the verse in the bible which quotes
“But your dead will live, their bodies will arise”,
I wrote,
Hoping you on the other side awaits for that moment
To see the pile of these poems
Yes some are written in tears some in blood.
With everything I saw that used to be yours,
I wrote,
On my, your birthdays,
I wrote,
To you, I wrote
To share the thoughts, emotions and cakes too
Yes I wrote.
To keep the distance,
I wrote,
To fill that gap,
I wrote,
But again it’d never do
But with these, where to?
To you I guess.
Cause these
Are filled with black and red lines
Suicide notes and yes DEATH’s the keyword
But never, no never
Will I wail,
To ease the pain,
Oh I will write
For it feels right.
But with you, to you,
I’d write
Even if earth could swallow us whole,
I’d just settle there, yes I might.