Malik Elahi

As Silent as the Grave

These days I have no more room for somber poems written under sunsets or love poems illuminated under star lights, all the shine has left in the form of mahogany coffins dropping into soft Texas earth that's been stirred by the bodies of now unfamiliar faces only captured in Facebook and instagram pictures. Windows into the past both reveal and steal my joy like a therapist diagnosing the depression I didn't know I had. The love I had has now passed, now here I am. Sunless and depressed.