I would never speak to you again
Or look for you in a crowd.
But it breaks my heart that you're not here.
If I could mould my arms into something like a hug
I would barter them for love
You'd be at some marketplace where only ghosts buy their souls.
I write a lot about you sometimes
That's hardly a drop in my ocean
It's saturated with salt though,
Brine upto the brim.
Last Monday I had nothing to do so I poured over our letters
I don't want to throw them away,
They have a lot to teach. Maybe one day
I will show them to my kids
You will be someone's drug,
As always, out of reach.