I wrote a poem for you,
With words that hung on to the tip of my tongue but never said,
Inked it with my blood,
And scented it with my perfume
The one you loved the most - of freesia and musk,
Hoping you'd remember me,
I wrote it in a simple form,
so you don't bury yourself in it,
Trying to dig too deep,
I wrote of emotions that restrained me from telling you,
I wrote about demons that haunted me in my sleep,
I wrote,
About the memories that had become ghosts,
About secrets I'd kept too long,
I wrote about the million ways I tried to move on,
But mostly,
I wrote of the thousand things I adored about you,
Of how I imagined constellations from the freckles on your face,
That night you fell asleep with your head resting in my lap,
How I adored you like the sky did the stars,
I wrote and wrote,
Eventually running out of words,
I placed it in a bottle, sent it with the currents,
My hopes high that it'd reach you.
And let you know how,
With all the scars you've given me,
My love for you is endless.
YOU ARE READING
Raconteur
PoesíaThere are numerous ways to let another person in to your mind. A neurosurgeon could- via surgery, or a person could read through another's writing. I prefer the latter. This book consists of bits and pieces of what goes around in my mind. Hopefully...
