Sometimes,
nostalgia swallows me whole
And I find myself
Having rooftop conversations with the moon
Of why people have to die so young
without prior notice,
Perhaps the world can't handle
the ball of magic
and miracles that they were.
At night, when I touch your side of the bed
and silence greets me like an old friend,
I shatter like broken bottles on ocean floors
and I bleed in haunting silence.
Sometimes,
I wake up to mornings
with a familiar sad melody of your name,
how it floats in my mouth
with the sadness that it carries,
how grief made a home in my throat
and grew roots in my veins,
how a thousand funerals
settled like dust at the bottom of my heart,
how everything is but a bad dream.
And if absence
truly makes the heart grow fonder,
I'll remember you like a love song,
like a gentle prayer,
like a candle in the wind
knowing that you now belong to
where the sea meets the sky,
where pain doesn't have a name anymore.
But for now, I'll grieve a little longer
till the sky changes her colors,
till the moon stops mourning for her loss,
till the sun begins to rise in my bones again,
And everything that spells your name
becomes a tender memory
that forever glows
in a city where the sun never sets.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐น๐ถ๐
04.23.21
ยฉamsterdam
A