i’m tired of writing these poems
tired of chasing the right words
for a feeling that never wanted to be named

tired that nothing i write
comes close to the way it felt
to love you
and lose you
and still carry it all

no stanza, no line,
no late night whisper into the void
has ever been enough

the love i have for you
deserves more than language
and yet
language is all i have

I give my greetings to my dearest—
you still shine the brightest
among tulips in my memory.
And to the world well
beneath these walls,
I wish for this day to live.

I still have your name
carved on candles,
lit—in the silence
of your long-gone presence.

And time, as it melts—whole,
dulls the weight of longing.
But I can still hear your laugh
from years ago.
It still stings.

To the greetings left unsaid,
I whisper them to the air.
For my dearest memory,
I wish for your day—
to be the brightest.