Hovering over the tombs of memory
Hovering over the tombs of memory
I gathered a poetic anthology
Of poems written with unspoken words.
I sat with paper, ink, and the bones of each time I died
And so I wrote everything I never said:
Pronouns
Verbs
Adverbs
...
Everything you needed to hear:
"I love you"
"You kill me every time"
"I hate you"
"I miss you"
"I'm sorry"
...
The poems were sad
Happy
Morbid
Like posthumous memories
Like a funeral march
For undead poets
I'm usually lost with poetry but the list of things you never said hit me different. Like I could feel the weight just in reading it.
Sounds like you were writing to one person the whole time, or maybe to yourself on a different day when you were different too.
The "bones of each time I died" line. Is that all the same person dying over and over, or is it each poem its own person?
Twenty years hearing other people's lives and yeah, I've sat with this exact thing. The weight of unspoken words. The "I'm sorry" that never leaves the paper.
You cried poor,