Maybe I could write poetries about how the world has been ruled by tyrants,
or how the ozone layer is only waiting for tim
to create ripples of lashes back at us
or why America wishes to be great again
hell, is it not yet
Maybe I could write piece
about life and survival
of the never ending search of the ligh
at the end of the tunnel
or of how no one could ever heal the Earth
but us
Maybe I could write about how stupid Shakespeare was when he messed
Romeo and Rosaline's fate
or blame Van Gogh for making depression
look appealing to the eye
or write about how beautiful death could be if we submit to it at the climax of Mozart
But, honey, at this unholy hou
let me tell the world of the "us
they never got a chance to meet
Of how we talked about the topics cited above, you'd laugh your heart ou
because I never let you win
I'll throw comments at the lame points you make, and there is you telling me that mine was even worse
But, somehow
we were connected at some point
I have a messed up humor, and you got the wits I have never seen in anyone
And so, my fragile heart was caught in between our late night talks
I began scribbling notes and what-nots after midnight
Not about intellectual topics
but about you
At that moment, call me crazy
but, you were the most sensical topic
At that moment, I was so excited to tell the world one day, that we started in mail
and going beyond
Until we ran out of issues to talk abou
and feelings
and time
I don't know what happened
but our connection suddenly faded
Until I burned my notebook
and buried my pen
And that, my love, is how you kill a write