trying to look fine even though you obviously are not-
then people would start,
throwing questions at you,
asking what lead to what and how all these happened
despite you being known to be somebody who sees things and prepares for it before it even happens.
and then you would start
asking yourself the same questions. you would stop,
trying to recall things that might somehow lead you to some
of the answers.
it would take most of your time.
you would skip meals,
cry in between,
lie and then would get up to bed,
look at the window,
seeing nothing but
hearing nothing but the sound of your chest
nothing but your mind has run a long long long way.
you would get tired, fall asleep.
when you wake up, still
lying on bed,
nothing has changed.
the pain remained.
you realized something, you may have lost the battle but the consolation is
very much rewarding.
beside you lie his body and his arms wrapped around you.
that is...he never gave up on you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.