How to tell the heart sorry
For storing years of sorrow?
How to tell the people I left behind
That I did not get over them?
How to tell winter to be gentle
And the night not to fall too soon?
So that the strolls can continue,
So that love can occupy more space.
Or how to ask time what should I keep,
And what to discard amongst
Love and friends
And new love and new friends?
How to offer peace
To the terrible optimism of youth
That drove us blind?
How to appease the blinding anger,
The stab of being let go so easily?
Or how to face the terrible roads
Burdened with dust of drudgery
And the years of mechanical meanderings?
How to live to the brim?
I asked you once, all those years ago,
All the eighteen years of our existence
Has come to nothing now?
What we had built up all these years?
To what end?
And how to know if this is
Indeed the end?