you talked to me in sonnets
or metaphysical poetry --
you said it all, in little words.
I was never any good at it,
unable to describe you in
only 14 lines, unable to
describe you even in novels.
writing about love is like
translating Shakespeare --
the subtleties are always
lost -- and in my many
inadequate attempts to
put you on paper, I've
never managed to make
you understand what
happens to my heart
each time you smile.

I want to ignore
Everything you ever were
But that is hopeless.

You’re like that cup of coffee,
At six in the morning,
Before a long day begins.
You keep me going,
For a few hours,
And then at night,
I crash.

ＯＮＥ:
i miss the
way your
body sinks
into my
mattress
marking your
beauty finitely

ＴＷＯ:
and I also
miss how
your tired
kisses came
with soft
promises of
forever

ＴＨＲＥＥ:
i wonder
about who
stains your
cheeks now
with red
praise and
scarlet i love yous

ＴＨＲＥＥ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
she would
never love you
as much as
i do

ＦＯＵＲ:
and i miss
you so much
i fall asleep
to the monotone
of myself
counting the days
of how long it has
been since
your departure

ＦＩＶＥ:
and to pass
my time
i count the
times you
told me you
loved me
with absent
ghost eyes

ＳＩＸ:
i'm trying
to live with
the ribs you
broke and
the air
you left

ＳＩＸ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
but how can
i go on
with the bones
you left me?

ＳＥＶＥＮ:
i'll keep trying
but it's hard
when my
memories
of you litter
my head like
the dust in
my attic

ＥＩＧＨＴ:
and how can i
go on when
you emptied me
and left me
wondering why?

ＮＩＮＥ:
i have
watched you
leave over
and over
and my zenith
sadness is
quite enough
to make
a collapsing
supernova feel
shame

ＴＥＮ:
and sometimes
I blame
love itself for
handing me
right into
your hands

ＥＬＥＶＥＮ:
but when
it's darkest
please know
that my
moon still
chases after you

ＥＬＥＶＥＮ＆ａＨＡＬＦ:
and that
i don't
hate love
for giving
you

ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ:
i hate love
for residing
in my heart
infinitely when
it knew you
weren't staying
forever