And when she left,
I kept her lucky bamboo alive,
and wished that the leaves
will speak to me in her voice

But the leaves has grown quiet,
and turned into my favorite color

Does that mean our love has withered,
or have I been speaking with the dead?

I am all the dreams
you had at night,
but forgotten
in the morning

I scratched my head,
and a memory got
stuck under my nail

I sang to my aching heart,
it is yearning to be broken, again
Call it love

If I leave, I wonder if
peace will visit my grave

Joy overcomes me
born out of agony

Still I am burning
underwater,
I cannot be saved

When my soul departs,
alone,
know that I am glad to go

You have forsaken me
in May,
now I know that every
love is prone to decay

There is such
loneliness in
my heart, and
it consumes me
each deathly night

Weeping I laid
and waited for
the tears to dry,
but they remained
on my face like
a wound that
won’t seem to heal

Why shall I stay alive if death is my fate?

Mother gave
me a blade

Mine was pink,
hers was purple

It was a useless sharp thing
that’s always in my drawer

One night,
I reached for the blade,
and it felt like my
mother’s embrace  

Every time I used it,
I was being released
from all my pains

Thank you, mother

She was named after love,
and letters were exchanged
between lovers in her name

Poets found their muse
when she visited their hearts
and I was one of them

But my love never
reached her heart
like hers did mine

And so she left,
when my stubborn heart was
aching to be laced with hers

She left,
and my eyes were searching,
yearning for her

Dear Heyam,
I swear on love letters
and you
For it is the last poem
I write about you