Ennui and vanity laced my smile,
I bled from my fingertips onto the tiles

And from my pen I transcribed   emotions
Into letters set in motion.

The old keyboard wouldn’t type what I want it to write,
        Nothing would come out right.


   Words didn’t feel the same
As when I recited them in my head

And I didn’t want them to mean,
I wanted them to be   poetry



I wanted to say I loved her,
  With more than eight letters


Like a flickering candle I wanted to disappear
   In one final burst of light, without regret or fear.


I was self-righteous, believing to be right this time
And that my parting words were to be rhadamanthine,


They were not evanescent enough
  To portray the fleeting emotion of a lost love

And I could’ve said anything as my last words
   I would’ve acted callous; I would’ve been cold…

Maybe then I wouldn’t regret leaving her with my absence
  And the emotions that stir and rise like incense

To claim your breath with the passing sentiment
     Of a lover’s condemned death.



  I left a letter, I left a poem, I left a list
For when I’d be far, for when I’d be missed.

Just so she could read and comprehend
The emotions I felt as I drowned in sentiment

Melancholy wasn’t strong enough a word
   For a reader to picture my crumbling world.



I was to say goodbye,
  I meant to say I loved her

Yet I could only usher past my lips
That before all ends and we’d be out of time

    Before winter claims the fall of summer
After the birth of spring.  Before then I’d be her lover…



Before she was to forget,
I was to remind her that I never left.