People write in different ways.
I write in darkness, shoulders shaking
The sound of me breaking, breaking.
And had I known,
It took pain to write,
I would have gladly hurt,
Without a fight.
I’m sorry for writing about you –
How your lips curve when you smile,
And the way you play with the ring on your thumb.
I’m sorry for writing
The way you look down when you’re embarrassed
How you would call my name
And gently let yourself get hurt.
You always easily fill in the gaps,
Of missing time and missing moments.
You easily bridge these,
And the gaps in my heart.
The words that are hard to say,
The feelings that are about to burst,
You so easily hold them,
As if these walls were nothing.
Silently the years go by
You appear once more.
As if the years were merely seconds,
Unyieldingly and warmly,
Your straightforward eyes.
Isn’t it funny how
So much time could pass
And so many words could be left unsaid
So many dreams could come
So many hearts you could love
And then un-love
But there will always be something
Suddenly and randomly,
Unknowingly and heartbreakingly,
That will remind you of them.
I saw you in my dream last night,
Though I never once did back then.
You held me so gently as if you had forgotten,
That I was the one who had hurt you back then.
So I held you back in a way,
I never once did back then.
My morning coffee tastes of you
It’ll taste of your pretty smiles
Burning sweetness, a dash of bitterness
It’ll taste of you
A little milk, a little mellow
And I’ll end up thinking of you
The mornings will go by like this
Thinking of you
I’ve never written you and
I’ve never written your soft laughter –
How you couldn’t even look me in the eye.
I’ve never written your words,
Your hopes and dreams –
Your drunken slur.
I’ve never written the secrets between you and I,
Because I know eventually it’ll become a blur.
I miss the rain that falls on your shoulder.
The brief warmth that comes
Seconds after you laugh.
I miss the moments we spend by the doorway,
Your knowing smile
Softens as I’m stalling time.
And I miss your promise of forever
The brief ache that comes,
Seconds after you turn away.
I should have said,
The last time that we met,
That I am sorry and that I am sorry,
I should have said,
That time when we were drinking,
That I had been lying
So I am sorry, I really am sorry.
And I should have said,
The time when you still cared,
That I did care, I cared too much.