Tonight After days of silence You told me about something That I think was making you sad. I tried to reach out to you. Your eyes turned to ebony, A dark, hard timber. And they said: Do not feel sorry for me.
The book was my confidante, Because at times it seemed I didn’t have anyone else. Written in pencil It contained all the joys, the hurts, the sorrows. And all the love. He was my darling boy. Perfect, but imperfect. Everything I wanted, yet flawed. But I loved those flaws. He didn’t have a book. If […]