Where Reason Bleeds Poem by Jannat Ahona

How many volumes must we burn
before you recognize the scent of the smoke?
Don't you know the epilogue?
Believe me,
I reach for the red to write a different ending.
I command it to speak of the sun, rain or the mundane
But every line I start ends the same
Because my pen is a loyalist that only knows how to pulse your name
How is your heart a well that never meets the dust?
To love you less, to hollow my chest
would be a breach of my soul's sacred trust
Have you traded your throne for the crumbs of a ghost?
I have no need for pride in a world that holds him
To save myself while he is everything
He is the serendipity-
a collision that hurts me to my doom
yet it is a knot I would never undo
Do not let his presence become your daily bread
Or you will starve in the silence of the things left unsaid
To make him a habit is to build on the sand
it will hurt like a fever when you can no longer touch his hand
I know we are parallels-
agonizingly close but eternally apart
But I would rather drown in his memory
than breath a thin air of a life without his mark
For even the pain of him a treasure
I am not yet poor enough to give up