I could write you into a song

Of how you first smiled at me in the lateness of

The afternoon as if I

Had mouthed you a joke you only understood

But not enough to make you laugh

I could write you into a song

Of how your little play games made me believed in the idea of “us”,

That we were meant to cross paths to create gardens

Out of ruins but you soon made clear to me,

that we were not meant to be something else

I could write you into a song

Of how in many moments I chose to make myself a fool

Still holding close the illusions you’ve let me built, even if you

Had already broken me enough,

Into pieces unrecognizable over and over again

I could write you into a song

Of heartaches and hopes that were enough

To crush the “could haves” and “what ifs” into desolation

I could write you into a song

That I longed to hum and sing in memory of my blinded love

But No, I would not write you into a song

Of anything grand nor anything beautiful and painful.

No I will not write you into a song

Because just like songs, you’ll get old

Just like songs you’ll fade into the silence

Just like songs you’ll be loved and then hated

Just like songs, you’ll be felt and then forgotten and

Then remembered again to remind me that

Once in my life I had loved you enough to make you into a song.

I could write you into a song

But the pain is just too much for me to bear your name and

Make you into something

Beautiful.