THAT WHICH WE CALL A ROSE

Dear May (Letters from June)

Day 13 : That which we call a rose

I cannot stop myself from longing for things that I have lost.

Like how I would like to listen to classical music in your arms,

Or feel ocean breezes with you by my side.

How I would like to bury my face in your neck,

Feel your kiss on my cheek.

It is enough,

Would be enough,

If I still had you.

How was it so easy for you to let go

of me, of us?

How was it so easy for you to forget

every promise, every memory?

These are clichés,

These words of mine,

This reminiscing, this wanting,

This repeating of phrases of pain.

It makes me want to puke,

I cannot imagine how it must be for you,

To read them over and over,

But these are all I have.

What other name could I give to them?

To this hurt.

That which we call a rose

By any other name

Would smell as sweet

So what else?

What else can I say?

How else can I say it?

That I love you,

And I've lost you,

And it breaks my heart everytime

I think of you.

©May

#sad

#love