the scrap of paper
holds so much hope

in seeing everything
again
seeing sunlight
again
feeling joy
again

but i now don't hold a reason to go
get on that sickening plane
where my home was,
is now my heart's grave.

everything would remind me of you,
everywhere is a landmark of all our conversations.
the desk is our whisper to one another.

maybe we write poetry to communicate to the soul,
not to the brain,
but to the heart.

maybe we don't have any other way to sing.
maybe we want our story to be shared.
maybe no one would listen.
but i'm here,
I'm here,
and i will listen.
to the thoughts of your mind.

you were that person to me,
i confided in you,
seeked advice,
and whom i shared memories with.

what happens to all the memories you hold?
will they fade?
but they are too vibrant to fade.
i want to hold them tight, so that i could relive them.
the times of gold, the times of light.

i relive the memories,
each and every night-
the moment of your warmth,
the smile on your face.

i remember your laugh, your dimple, your eyes
i can almost feel them,
although i haven't felt them before.

if i take a plane,
with my ripped ticket,
will my heart mend?
my soul is still broken,
and i am left to decay.

if i take a plane back,
will i be strong enough to endure?
i can't hold back from staring at you.
i will regret it,
but i will stare.

will the tears hold back?
will i be crushed?
will my soul wither?

how do you feel?
are you fine, as you say you are,
but are you suffering, too?
with me?

if you are,
can we make it easier for us?
if you are struggling too,
is it too late to apologize?

I love you, were the words I never had to chance to speak.
But I'm sorry.
for all the pain I caused you,
the weight,
the pain.

you'll be fine without me.

but i still miss you.