I used to send you
cute stuff over the mail,
buy apology flowers,
queue on Fridays—
on a whim.
I haven’t changed,
just evolved;
like your magician
you once idolised.
I no longer visit
the post office,
just like your number
feels like a stranger,
or your voice—
I couldn’t recall.
Till death do us part,
except
I made us part.
Different postcodes.
Different years.
Six years.
No more
tears.
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 10:35 AM UTC
I used to send you
cute stuff over the mail,
buy apology flowers,
queue on Fridays—
on a whim.
I haven’t changed,
just evolved;
like your magician
you once idolised.
I no longer visit
the post office,
just like your number
feels like a stranger,
or your voice—
I couldn’t recall.
Till death do us part,
except
I made us part.
Different postcodes.
Different years.
Six years.
No more
tears.
_________
© Ayisha R., 2025
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