Every passing day I feel more alone.
What she couldn’t say, poetry did.
Silence speaks more when we’re together.
You unfold in my memory
like winter cuts
that appear out of nowhere
recognized only through pain
You didn’t get the protagonist’s part.
Wherever you go
leave behind a trail of
Light; lambent, kind
Talking said, “Talking is overrated; thin”
Your love is the toxin
that burned my blood
but kept running in my veins
Didn’t know much, but knew compassion.
I get it, said no one.