I have written thousands of letters,
I have written hundreds of nights,
And I have seen two lovers fight —
But they’re not fighting with each other,
Still, they are lovers in my story.
I have watched them talking,
A few lies and a thousand truths.
I have written their story,
I have decorated their glory.
That’s all I have given to them,
This is all I would leave behind.
But that’s not all they deserve,
And I will try again for them.
I will write their story again for them.
I would burn all the ashes for them,
Without paying any mind.
I would try to write their names together,
But I know I can’t spell it forever.
Still, I would continue writing their story,
I would write it like a song,
I would sing it like a poem,
I would say it like they’re gods —
In the hope that somehow, they can be together.
But they can’t be the same lovers,
Because, as I said before,
They’re fighting, but not with each other.
They’re complaining, but not about each other.
They’re crying about their lovers
Who left them halfway.
I wrote this poem for the lovers who never got their ending — for those still holding on, even when love slipped away.
