Replying to a letter

I ll write till the day i see you, every cry i heard when you left.

 I ll write every line of misery with the blood you gave me. 

 You have filled my ink pot and gave me the slates as walls of my place 

and a stick you shaped as a pen.

 Everytime i dip it into the ink of your blood it buds flowers,

 but i sear I won't let them bloom but only on the slates. 

We don't want flowers without you my brothers. 

 I promise i ll write everyday and give you a book with pages equal to the deaths I witness after you.

 I hope I never get to more than a page and i pray that page is of my death. 

 As I want to write but do not fill my ink pot anymore.

 It ll flood my floor and it stares while I write with it. 

 Give me any ink but not red. 

 ~Shafaq Shahid