Some words you won’t un-hear,
I can’t go back to the person that I was,
things have been radically different,
hours have been slightly changed.
So, if you’re listening to the
songs of bushes and birds,
know that, you’re the very definition
of home to me,
just like first of the morning,
lost somewhere betwixt the morning jumble
and the sunlight gaze.
So, if you’re never going to tell me properly,
at least tell me it’s real,
and if you could just know that these syllables
suggest that I think about you when
the sun goes down and the moon pulls around
with another poem to write.
So, if you are someone else some day,
just endeavour to forget my emotions,
I don’t really know myself,
I don’t really know what’s up for me,
of course, I will be a chaos,
you’ll be the softer parts,
the way your lips pronounce my name,
the way you amplify you concealed anger,
you know this won’t dwindle with a simple goodbye.
So, if you don’t want to know it anymore,
I am probably ripped from page to page,
you will be the favourite letter,
just read these words and take them with you,
to the tallest mountains,
and burn these poems,
let the ashes scatter
all over the forests,
under the mountains,
to the underpinning of the oceans,
I will sing that song again,
I will call it blue,
I will tone your contact with my favourite tune,
I will name your eye color after my favourite thing,
I will brush my scars without a blame,
I hope that one day,
the lurid lightness of my love,
will be us.
So, if you ever pick up these letters,
reading them in dimmed lights,
just go through my drawers,
I leave letters everywhere for you,
you will find them all some day,.
The sun will be up in few,
just grab your unsweetened coffee,
and pretend you were never delivered this letter.
Put it back.
Pretend that it doesn’t hurt me,
pretend that it was just a dream,
just like how we first met,
like a little fade.
A letter you didn’t know existed.