The Day You Left, I Killed Shakespeare’s Poetry

The day you left, I killed Shakespeare’s poetry. I almost yelled Wherefore art thou, Romeo!except that your name wasn’t Romeo. I kept looking outside the window waiting for paper aeroplanes filled with secret love letters and songs to knock on my glass window. I kept listening to the hush of the mango tree in front hoping that you would, somehow, climb and tell me once more that Juliet is the sun except that my name wasn’t Juliet. But it won’t happen anymore. Now, birds singing became as annoying as hearing your name even when nobody even mouthed it.

I tried looking for you but you were so hidden in your own enigma. Your whole being were hidden in the deep that I felt embarrassed for the Pacific Ocean and its shallowness. The result of continuously searching for you would be a foregone conclusion that I would never ever find you, not in the near future, not even in the furthest future because I have realized that future wasn’t going to happen for us. How it gave this fragile heart an attack and stopped its beating turning it into flat lines like it was before.

You did not apologize, you only said goodbye through a poem. I tried to get rid of your smell from my memory and so I started sniffing scents of lovely flowers and picture images of angels to replace what you have instilled in my mind. I tried walking the same path covered with dried leaves alone, sitting on the park bench alone, eating vanilla-flavored ice cream alone, and walking home alone to familiarize doing things, of course, alone. Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow,That I shall say good night till it be morrow. And the night came but it was not a fine day.

I tried forgetting how your eyelashes look like. How it’s like a curtain that when opened gave me a glimpse of the sun through your dark brown eyes. I tried not remembering how your hands are like dancing trees when you play your guitar and that serious look on your face while strumming the strings, it’s the only thing that wrinkles my nose. And I tried forgetting how your voice, it sounded like the waves crashing to the shore – full yet calm.

It wasn’t really your fault. Maybe we were just a pair of star-cross’d lovers who took their life. You disappeared and so I was forced to disappear. Maybe it was your fault. You became in love with love but no one can blame you for that. Maybe it was our fault. We became infatuated with this love and didn’t see that it was only a fool’s paradise. Maybe it was my fault. I don’t know why.

But Maybe, it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. You did not return. Because you did not even leave. And I was just waiting.


Inspired by Thought Catalog’s The Day You Left, I Filled My Chest With Poetry

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