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.