and so

And so,
I will be reading to you
-about-
for the tree that is cut,
for the sun that is set,
for the truth that is forgotten,
for the word that is unspoken,
for the house that is abandoned,
for the wind that has not blown for ages,
for the rain that has never been cried,
for your skin that left you naked,
for the love that I haven't felt for you,
for everything that existed somehow in the past,
for the past that misses its own past,
for the memory that misses its own memory,
for me that I miss your leg upon my body,
-me- just being a path for your leg.

Then I'll wash your hair and I will sing them through my poems, both the unwritten ones and the unread ones, just like you have no hair, just like we never existed until I read to you the ones that do not exist anymore.