acrostic(an allusion to neruda)

tonight, i can never write the saddest poem -
one about stars, the distance or the wind singing.

like any nights, i am bound for infinite sky,
or the solitude of darkness gazing. on the
verge of inutterable stiffness, the night
etches every nook and cranny of her being,

justifying the ugliness of my scars. for
only time can heal and i no longer love her
yet i can never forget her face. the face

i trace not so long time ago

smoothly(yet sadly).

tonight, i will try to write the saddest poem.
i will write about scars, infinity and stillness.

like any other nights, i will call upon heavens,
longing for the hush of your voice, yet without

listening to the ghost of what has been – a gust.
only time can tell and i no longer see her face yet
very much, i love her still. and what once was mine,
every nook and cranny of her being is now

yearning for somebody else, she is somebody else’s. for what was
once under my arms is being cradled by the stars. tonight
under the infinite sky, my soul is lost without her, yet i can no longer love her.