and neither the moon nor sun
can comfort me;
one heard my stories about you,
and the other my prayers for you.
The rain could not escape my memory
that you liked the monsoon,
The winds only held gently the expectation
of ruffling your soft hair.
The stream mimicked your laughter
which was etched deeply in my heart.
The sand under my feet told me when it met you
and the salt in the ocean whispered to me that
you threw your wishes as promises,
but wouldn't tell me what those were;
something about secrecy.
The air during my late night walks
reminded me that you walked these paths,
The flowers gushed about your voice,
the trees your jokes;
and then everything
crumbled.
as my mind had to remind me that you died,
and your image I had to forget for my sake.
snatched away so quickly,
I hate that, I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
you live a life away from all this happily, while I mourn the death of a person you pretended to be; and to hate you means to hate who I loved and I cant bear that
