the mourning never stops
one moment they're here
and the next they're not
the sound of it still ringing in our ears
the weight of our loved ones on our shoulders
and in our hearts
funerals for the living
and weddings for the dead
broken memories scattered across the city
waiting to be fetched
bricks that have forgotten their past
faces with no will to laugh
damp from the flow of tears
mothers wishing they were in those coffins instead
now every bit of the air smells of death
and glued to that throne
the grim reaper has yet to take his last breath
a concept so foreign to me
my first love
first kiss, first touch
one moment you're my everything
and the other you're not
there he goes
leaving me with nothing
but the sorrow
that now accompanies our memories
they tell us life moves on
but how long will it take for us to catch up with it?
4 verses followed by 2 because your departure reduced me to half
I tried to figure out your poems for so long
I was becoming one;
Line by line
I absorbed the ink,
Dissolved into the paper,
Tumbled into random commas.
Only to emerge when it was complete
What was complete?
Some poets don’t even know the meaning of what they themselves write.
oh won't you help me out?
i can't make up my mind!
do i want to kiss you
or look at your eyes?
for the rest of our lives.
here i am
over time that has passed
when i wished i was older
as if time were a person
that i could stop
from leaving me too soon
but what can my tears do now
that the greatest scientists
have not done yet
i can only hope my younger self
I am here.
I am breathing.
Blood flows through my veins.
The warmth of the sun touches my skin.
A soft breeze wafts through my hair.
I can see that which lays before me.
I can hear the sounds of the world around me.
I can smell a faint sweetness in the morning dew.
I can touch the petals of a delicate flower.
But I do not feel alive.