Her, by Nicholas Ryan Sampson

Her

Hope in another form

but no fewer letters

and I’ve been hoping for

these past eight years

so I’ll just keep on

(2013)

If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing

There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds

I awoke in the dark next to you and more alone than ever I was amazed to hear your heart beating from

I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting

So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything

I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days

All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life

Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like

I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response

I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown

I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can

My heart was paper  now folded six times over  to make it harder  to tear  I only hope that 

I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face