I Used to Write You Poems

about flying all the way to where you are,
how these skyscrapers survive each other

but never us. Never saw all of these
in your rooftop: clouds of smog, firefly

traffic, whistles of emptiness. I stopped
these futile attempts to wait for another

lunar eclipse, fireworks displays, meteor
showers, showing up whenever they want.

Perhaps, I let nights pass, wondering
if you are reading, being part of towering

statistics. Perhaps, you never thought
of me in these nights. Who am I to be there,

when all along, my eyes are blurring the horizon?
I think it’s time to go back to the elevator.


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