"What do you wish for?"
Stunned, I remain silenced.
Tapping the pencil, tilting my head;
think. Fast. Now.
Nothing came to my mind but extinguishing
the very thought of you.
I decided to grant my own solitary wish.
And so, I wrote. I wrote you.
I wrote all verbal poetry exchanged.
I wrote all smirks and grins you've let escape.
I wrote the mere change in your voice tone
when you called my name.
I wrote, because writing was my only savior.
I wrote you, my darling,
into *****, crumbled sheets of yellow paper.
Rolling them up like those cigs enveloped by your lips,
I embedded each one to my heart's core,
one after the other, stroke after stroke,
and I started bleeding all over.
My final endurance, hallelujah, this was it!
I detached my heart from all that's connected to it,
I almost died.
I gathered up what has remained from my frail soul
and fed it into my coronaries,
just to keep it pumping yet.
Removing it gently, I dug up a hole in the dirt
and slowly placed it. Here it was,
you, lying in utter chaos.
I was devoid of it.
Devoid of what made me who I am.
I was motionless, dull-eyed, insipid.
I continued my life this way
the moment I decided to bury you alive.