Have you ever thought
that a poet's pen
performs
"open heart "surgery
every time
it writes?

I knew it then, the light grew thin,
Your smile was warm, but not within.
The words grew few, the nights turn cold,
and I still carry what we were-
In quite wind, in whispered blur.

but love it seems, is not a flame
that bury forever with the same
sometimes it's just a fleeting light,
A burst of stars, then gone from sight.

I wish I hid the words I've said,
the one should kept beneath my lips.
but even in this dark regret,
I hold the love I won't forget,
though time has drawn us far apart.
you're still the song inside my heart-
A sweet, soft pain I can't reset.

but not all love is meant to stay,
some simply bloom then fade away.
you gave me something pure and true,
a piece of light I carry thru-
a sweeter heart because of you.

a gentle ache, a quite theft
the best of me, once loved
by you.

Most books
I've lost or destroyed.
Only a few
always remain
by my side.

If any books last,
they’re full of
coffee stains,
small folds,
worn-out pages.

Time spent
scrolling libraries -
shiny covers,
loud titles
posing for attention.
I see their beauty,
but none
caress my soul.

I know the moment
when it happens.
I’ve read
similar first chapters
once before.

The first page -
lightning bolt,
mental spotlight,
my heart whispering:
nothing else matters.

But every page
I turned,
I feared
all I love
could vanish
within just a few words.

Stories progress -
and so
their characters too.
I struggled
to keep up,
to grow with you.

I wish I kept reading.
I was frightened
by your clean slate -
no visible scars
to match mine.

I was afraid
to be misunderstood,
to be a burden.
You never knew
what it’s like
to have all you care for
blown up like fireworks
on a sad New Year’s Eve.

I expected too much,
hoping you’d see
dried up waterfalls
behind my stage light smile.

Years passed. I’ve grown.
I think I’m ready
to read again.

I hope you’re there,
somewhere,
looking for me.
Know that I too
search for you.

Show your torn-down soul
wherever you express.

Tell the whole world
how you defied
cold ravines,
silent nights.

Lay breadcrumbs
along your path
of self-destruction.

Trust in me
seeing you
as you drag
yourself along.

Let’s rebuild
our lives
together,
with worn-out tools.