I wish this pen was filled with blood, <br />Sucked from my every vein. <br />No words, No words, my sorrow can proclaim, <br />No words but the blood in my veins. <br />Squeeze out of me every dropp of blood, <br />Only they will the story tell. <br />That my tears could the whole world flood, <br />That my sorrow could outpour a well. <br /> <br />What a story my friend? <br />Can this paper hold? <br />If only you know my grief my friend, <br />If only you could read my soul. <br />A Monday lunch my friend, <br />Was the least you could have done for me. <br />If only I could have told you my friend, <br />How dear you are to me. <br /> <br />The places we visited my dear friend, <br />How will I visit them again? <br />The things we did my dear friend, <br />How will I do them the same? <br />Why did you not think of me my dear friend? <br />Why did you not cling onto my heart? <br />I cannot but bleed my dear friend, <br />When I remember our part. <br /> <br />The things we spoke of dearest, <br />How shall they come true? <br />The things we planned for dearest, <br />How can they happen without you? <br />I bleed dearest, <br />For that Monday lunch. <br />I’ll continue to bleed my dearest Pearlyn, <br />Until that heavenly Monday lunch.<br /><br />Christian Eliab Ratnam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/until-that-heavenly-monday-lunch/
