When we met you were a poet
therefore I am immortal.
You etched me out
in stanzas and poured
the starlight from
my smile into your lines. My
laughter got recorded in the
blank spaces between words
while the love I had for you
inspired your own raw
recollections of our
beautifully fragmented
conversations.
Now you've journeyed off
to another land where
my eyes pierce through
the icicles of your heart
and you've buried your
emotions alive
in an endless
field of
bluebells.
You may not
be here anymore,
your footprints were
swept away by ocean tides
and sand crabs but
we both know
you were.
And that's
enough for
me.
I am immortal
because I was
loved by a poet.
I guess you
are too
even if you
have been
forgotten
here.
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