I wrote a million poems for you today
but i crumbled them and threw them all away
i was a fool to think that words could ever be
a tribute to your haunting memory
intense as all the soul you move in me.
capture the curve of an arching back
on a wooden, creaking seat.
I am naive to think that words could ever do.
enough to make you feel the darkness
when you walk out of my room.
or show you how my body falls each time I find.
the tiniest of articles
that you have left behind.
I wrote poems to you to tell you how I hurt.
but I was let down time and again
with weak, cold words.
as if words could ever make you comprehend
the pictures I keep playing in my head.
your hand on my stomach in my bed.
your light and your smile as you said
"I love you".
I wrote the words I hoped could make you feel.
How my face misses your face
How I miss biting your ear.
How I miss pulling your hair
But I read them and the pain's not there.
Could I cry to you and fall into your arms?
If my body fell to pieces,
could I make you feel how much I need you?
I wrote a million poems for you today.
Because you killed me. I will never be the same.
