I’ve been trying to write the shortest poem,
For you,
For me,
For everyone that matters.
I’ve been failing ever since,
For days,
For months,
For years that lost count.
You may now take me or a liar,
For a deceiver,
For a cheater,
For someone that’s never true.
But my intentions aren’t for the bad,
For the wrong,
For the evil,
For the most malevolent thing.
I’m doing this for what I see around,
For the love,
For the blessing,
For everything good in between.
You may still be reading this,
For your curiosity,
For your concern,
For the interest you’ve earned.
But I’m not ready for it to end,
For I’m lonely,
For I’m sad,
For I’m scared of what’s ahead.
It may be already too late for me to ask,
For your affection,
For your warmth,
For your every tender thought.
But I’m always trying,
For today,
For tomorrow,
For the forever that will come.
Because I know you care,
For your mother,
For your father,
For each member of your family.
So now I’m saying goodbye,
For you,
For me,
For the shortest poem.
I’m hoping you won’t feel sad,
For her,
For him,
For the end of the shortest poem.
And you won’t feel lonely,
For it’s you,
For it’s me,
For it’s only the shortest poem.