An Ode to Will

You left me in a sort of darkness
Something that wouldn’t even let me figure out
How to make those special noodles
Because I had only ever made them for you
Truth be told, I forgot the way to grocery shops too
A leftover from when you jumbled up the roads
I guess, this means you left me alone
A loneliness that made me change
So much, that even the when I make my lasagna
I can’t make it for one person anymore
And your plate still awaits your return home
Strangely, I still warm that blanket in winter sun
Even though you would say that it was merely typical
Also, no one warms your side of the bed
So, while I do get invitations for the night ins
I don’t get a warmth beside me
When the untrained arm reaches across to you
Still, I do attend your classes
With perfect silence, maintaining decorum
I see you forget your tie once every week or so
And even I wear unmatched belts
You smile so prim and proper and fake
When you call me up and ask
Ask me to speak of these poetry you read
And I keep silence as my only answer
For, you should know what I would say
If I somehow managed to break out
I guess the poems didn’t matter when we were together
But, they do matter so much now
Say lover, do you still call me Lan by mistake
That name from an old pulp fiction
That you loved, and I couldn’t
For I know I still call you Endless
Since, some days you are only the scars you left
Poetry inside my leather bound heart
Stories on my walls and stairwells
All things that cannot be wiped away
Tell me Endless, do you still smoke your Camels
When I am so so far away?
And do you still buy our old whiskey
Drink entire bottles in one single day?
On one of those last days I remember so clearly
You reading Shakespeare and crying
Because you could not make sense of it
And I could never bear that
You were poetry, and being away from that
It made you some what less
So, in an impulse I forced you to leave instead
Doesn’t mean I do not want you back
For poetry and languages aren’t meant
To be barriers between people
Not that I have managed to understand your verse
Or those large epics that you read
And I still hold onto your voice before the fountain
And I remember the screams that followed them
Tell me, do you still howl at night?
Make your partner check for monsters?
Or was it me who made you so afraid?
Some days I see your monsters still
When your dress looks creased and crumpled
Or when you forget what you taught
Mostly though, it’s when you evaluate my essay
Insisting that I deserved the hundred
Your “friends” know now don’t they?
I am probably the joke they tell of in lunch breaks
Help with this, I might have if I had the courage
To write you these poems of reassurance
But, then my pen’s ink has stopped flowing long before
And my hand hurts whenever I start writing
I remember you being like floral arrangements
A bridal wreath that was placed before burial places
And even though you wear white in dreams
I cannot help but, wear black again
Two people whose love can never fit in place
Your verses that bite into me as gunshots
A wonder in the smoke that smells of sadness
No, I would not leak your secrets
They are mine to carry till the end
Nor will I share your breaths at the end of the night
Tell me, how to manage to sleep with this weight
Or do I stay awake
And if we are storms that will tear each other
Is that love still according to your poems?
Is this what it feels to be Endless?

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