I Didn't Want to Stop, So

You too, might not return someday...in the chambers of my heart, why had this simple truth never occurred to me before?

In my bewildered, weakened mind I grope through memories of you. Suddenly this thought has left my body numb! There is no relationship between us, no expectations...I accept—only our connection remains, and there's no clear reason to maintain even that—no accountability, no waiting, no touch, no regrets—as if there's only silence.

Don't people suffocate from staying silent too long?

I think...we are mute, that's why we remain so quiet. Or perhaps—we lack the strength to speak, or we failed to understand how words could kill feeling.

Nothing is ever final—last meeting, last words, last poem, last letter, last farewell smile...everything simply pauses, whether for a moment or for eternity. It stopped, or we made it stop—willingly or against our will. Which do you want?

Once I wanted to touch you for the last time—but I didn't want everything to end this way, yet it all froze in an instant; lying there in a daze, the suppressed pain in a corner of my memory kept growing.

What do you have to leave behind? Objects remain. But you have a life—you should go instead.

Tell me, why don't you ever properly touch my body? You said you'd look into my eyes searching for poetry—did you find any? Only tears, I suppose?

I tried to write poetry too; do you know what I found? I imagine you read everything I write—if you don't know me...no one else in this world possibly could.

Don't let your heart grow heavy thinking I won't write anymore—I didn't want to stop, I simply wore away.