To Everyone, but not you

I write to everyone today , but not you,

For some reason I believe my words don’t reach through

I write to the same address, the same people that I once knew,

And yet those who in the test of time are lost somewhere too

I write today in shear disbelief to everyone, hoping for an answer back,

Something to read to myself, when I know there’s something I lack

I write today with no complains, no regrets, not even a sight of what once remained,

In the many walks that I know I couldn’t quit, when I knew there was no one on my side

I would talk to myself; I would often find meaning in the words I write today,

When I could write to everyone, but not you; to my utter dismay

If I could reason my life, and think of one excuse that I could give myself,

I would rather choose to not answer the unknown, and the reasons that I must dwell

I often sit silently, hoping that the past would change,

And trying to look for some meaning in whatever remains,

I find a time so fresh in my memory still, I cannot comprehend,

No matter how far I move along, I know my memories won’t end

I write to every bit of past life, but not you today,

I have no reason to be lost, and yet I cannot seem to find a way

I write to my fallen memories, in my diaries where I put down my life,

And yet I cannot seem to find you, and for a single hope I sometimes strive,

I write to everyone I know, but not you today somehow,

Don’t ask me what the reason is, our choices made us what we are now.

And when the silence fills the night, and we sit with nothing to do,

I will still have so many things to write, but somehow I can no longer write to you.