Afterthought Poem by Zyw Zywa

The failure packed
in boxes without a label
boxes disclosing nothing

of the five tastes
of love, its nettles
and the sticky grass around it

With your stuff, the misunderstandings
the quiet pain of distance and
jokes that cannot be retold

which I immediately forgot
in my desire
for company

Bye boxes, bye love
please let me
alone now with the afterthought

Farewell, there's no purpose in this
the god of adieu
does not exist