I worte him poems
Well, I started many, but I only finished one.
I tried to write him more
But the words just never could express
The way I felt entirely.
Of course, I never told him about this one poem
That I got to write completely.
(Nor about any of the others)
He never would have read it the way I wanted him to read it.
I dreamed of sending him my poem
But I never had the courage.
It was about a stork
Stork is an ugly name, it sounded way better in Spanish
Well the thing about this stork, is that it connected us, somehow
But now the person she was supposed to tether me to
Does not exist
So yeah
I wrote him many poems
That he'll never get to read.
I won't get to read them either,
They all got deleted when he left
Or rather I deleted them
And I kind of regret it
'Cause I think this one poem wasn't bad
But now I'll never know, I can't remember what it said.
So here I am writing a poem about a poem
And this one's definitely way worse.
Should I keep the things that remind me of the people who are gone?
Even the things that I created, just for me
I know that I wouldn't dare to read it even if I had saved it somewhere
But still it makes me sad not to have access to it
Just like I don't have access to him.
