I’ve written million words
making a poem without
your name inside.


They refused to be
written by me.
Words spread up,
scattered around
inside my head.


Like butterflies,
flew down and played
together.
Joyous until they grew
tired around my stomach;
falling.


Then,
died inside.


Leftover souls
trapped inside words:
crying.


Tears rained down

drop

by

drop


Carving a name

Your name.



9.12.17
Yogyakarta | Haeml;c