Sometimes

And it all goes down to one poem,
Written past the old written love poems, 
All that got across her ears, 
But never reached the heart. 

It is not the cities, spaces, 
Breaths, that got us too far, 
Separated; 
It is all by our doing. 
It is because the other took it seriously. 
It is because the other held it loosely. 
It is because time is both near 
And far from death. 
It is because love is not enough. 
It is because— because that fireworks 
Are good for one night, 
Jut one night. 

Truth hurts as I am lying on my back. 
Sleep is far from me this time, 
For now I’m certain that she’s really far. 
I can only look at her, only look, 
Though she tilted her head sometimes at my left shoulder; 
Though her hair was soft to touch, 
Fleeting… like a dream. 

Sometimes, she loved me too. 
Sometimes, she remembers me. 
I don’t really know 
Which star at night 
Reminded me of her. 
I don’t recall a star 
That does not look back. 
She doesn’t see me at all. 

I’m trying to say I love you, 
In any way possible, 
In any way for her to comprehend. 
Love is never nothing, perhaps, 
It is everything to some people, 
Some… people. 
I am trying to ask my self 
If there is any certain thing about her. 
But I love her, that’s for certain. 

This is all: 
That I do not know 
Where I am heading to. 
The train is far, asleep. 
And I am waiting for her, 
Only. 
The crowd makes it harder 
To find her so. 
And I guess, 
She’ll never find me too. 
We’ll be forever lost 
For the next two years. 
And I’d remember to love her… 
…sometimes. 

© 2012 J.S.P.