Memories Over Presence
I would rather weave a poem with your memories than to have you back.
Poetry allows me to exhibit your beauty through ink on paper,
Whilst reality echoes your monstrous being into my deafened ears.
You left a gloomy garden of decomposed flowers I watered at every sunrise,
Hoping their roots could be deeply anchored in the soil of your gestures.
They beared seeds of disappointment coated with pretentious affection,
And their petals of rainbow colours made my heart leap with joy.
Likewise, you my darling, is poison with an antidote projection.
But I say this to you verily,
My happy days with you are worth mesmerising, worth contemplating
But reliving them would be a massive catastrophe.