If I ever wrote about you

How long has it been?

Since you left of course.

I don’t know, my days have had no meaning

I’d told you right, why bother counting?

I don’t speak much nowadays

Who would I speak to anyway?

Or even say(the cats died and left too)

I don’t write much either,

All my poems reek of pain.

The pain that’s always on my face now, so I restrain myself

But somehow,

They see you everywhere

In the poems I have refused to write,

In the words I do not speak.

And I wonder

What if I wrote,

Would their bear to see you dazzling,

Would they clutch their hearts in pain?

Would they feel your touch and still go on with their lives,

Would they be able to wake up,

Go on about their duties

After they died

Like I died

After everything crumbled?

I wonder

If they could ever grasp

the love, the adoration, the joy

the pain,

If I ever told them;

If I ever wrote about you.