Dear G.,

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I have written your name inside of my wrists,
even if new hands will hold me
they will never be able to reach you.

I have hidden our history underneath my tongue,
I will not speak of you, but I will always taste the sweetness
of what we once had.

I have left a part of you in my heart;
it has grown roots so strong that even after years of solitude
I can still feel them moving against my heartbeat.

I have named the universe after you
as only your name would come close
to the explosive and unexplainable mystery above our heads.

You see, you will never leave this heart of mine,
even if you are already gone.

Jehona Thaqi © notes I took while sitting in your favorite café

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4 thoughts on “Dear G.,

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