Poetry

I started writing poetry
The day I met you
Your glances animate words
arranging themselves in verses
Your limbs conjure rhythms
dancing around in stanzas
Your smile inspire dreams
living in poems dedicated to you

I started writing poetry
The day I met you
Your voice enliven imagery
living vividly in your giggles
Your skin elicit metaphors
of lustrous silk cocooning every curve
Your name dream up similes
of our mounting desire for tomorrows

I stopped writing poetry
The day you left me
Eyes tearing as I reread the very verses
marked and scarred by your prints
Hands tearing the same sheets
that recorded our past in black and white
Heart torn as irrepressible thoughts flow
across a map of faded loving verses
that no longer bare meanings, not any more

I stopped writing poetry
The day you left me
The very day I died along
all the imaginations of a life
that wouldn't be complete without
all the punctuations pausing and breaking
as the tip of my pen put all these down
in black and white for you to sing

I stopped writing poetry
The day the phone rang
Another voice bid your goodbyes
as my heart ceased to beat along your flat pulse
Sadness streaming along frozen cheeks
symbolizing the vast inner emptiness
you drew around my poetic world
even if I vowed to stop loving
the day you left me behind
the very day you died.