Now that you're gone.

I feel crippled today.
As though someone took away a limb, or one of those six senses.
Like someone robbed the voice inside of me,
And placed that loving heart in that wooden box, right next to you.

The voice has got silenced.
No more does it talk, or laugh or breathe even.
It just lies there confused, lifeless.

No more does the ink flow on paper,
Like the blood in healthy veins.
Perhaps an imitation of your being.

No more does the hand have courage,
For no words get penned.
Just agony on paper.

Then like a ray of hope a thought dawns that maybe in a parallel universe,
These words are being written so that you see my thoughts breathe again.
You are resuscitating them.
Giving them wings, so they reach you.

Or maybe that voice was silenced so a new one emerges.
This time it being yours not mine.
That you get a chance to say what you couldn't,
To live again.
This time through my words.