His life was full of nonsense
His life was a jigsaw puzzle
His life was stone cold
His life was not looking both ways before crossing the street
His life was a masterpiece waiting to be finished
His life was a sad song
His life was the worst memory
His life was full of chaos
His life was surviving
His life was a thought in the back of your head
His life was a tragedy
Alive

I never really liked poems.
Or maybe it's proper to say that I'm not a huge fan.

If it is a piece of music
There's always a chord missing
Wrong rhythm
A bad intonation.

It does not suffice
In describing the myriad of thoughts in my head.
It was always short in line.
Short in feelings.
Too romantic
Or not at all.

But I remember staring at the ceiling
Imagining your smile plastered in it
I started looking for you in poems
I started drafting one
I started describing every parts I could remember
I start loving one.

It’s hard,
Wanting someone who doesn’t even know you exist.
A world full of people, and you chose them.
And they choose their person,
Who doesn’t even know they exist.

to miss you is a crime
an accusation made against my word.
you make it feel as if this is expected
to feel missed by those you lured