You froze the times we’d love to share;
you brought back the times we couldn’t freeze.
We danced in your prose, and we sang through your poetry.
We were immortal in your works, both you and I.
Your tears watered the seeds of creation;
your cries set the fires of imagination ablaze.
Your sighs and silent lamentations bore love and hatred,
and your self-doubt gave us strength.
The pain you carried was nothing but your armor,
your weapon was nothing but your jealousy.
The love you tried so hard to kill maimed your reasons,
and your independence was nothing but a fault.
Despite all these, you were the best thing I ever had—
the silent Scripturient, now asleep inside my heart.
The only singularity that makes my heart beat constantly
despite all the confusing enjambments from your lines to mine.
We were one, both you and I.
And I am now on my own as you’ve slumbered eternally.
And no matter how loud I scream, you do not awake.
We had our heaven, we had our love, we had our time.
And now, we’ve lost the love we had at first,
our once passionate connection from paper to ink
is now a memory of yesterday—
echoing behind my mind, inside my soul, deep in my heart.
I taste the bitterness of longing, like blood in my mouth,
the unending sourness of your absence in my life.
The hole you left in my life is filled with cold and silence.
Oh, sleeping Scripturient, awaken and love me again
because without your love, I am just a lost boy.
Cupid’s Arrow: It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!
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