He loves too deeply
that it hurts him more than it does him good
It is one of the saddest truths of this world
But little does he know
he hasn’t yet found the woman who feels this exact same way
My poetry is my soulmate
My poetry is my only confide
many a writer learnt her true love
was the paper in which she carved her heart
Always present at any one moment
she fills her deepest desires
and darkest thoughts
in the crevices of paper
Close yet alone
Sometimes it hurts so much
I wish I wasn’t here
I wish you would understand me
in the way I want you too
How can one feel so close
yet so alone all at once
A better person
More than anything
you make me a better person
and for that
how could I not be grateful?
You cannot script the future
I haven’t a clue
about the future
even if I tried to script it,
dot the i’s and cross the t’s,
no matter how hard I tried,
God would laugh at me
Truth is, the only thing that can be scripted
is the here and now
Universe, I’ll leave the rest to you
Bud to blossom
Like a blossoming flower
The feelings were a dainty bud at first
hardly present, fragile and easily removed
But with enough tender care and love,
with enough watering and sunshine,
the bud grew, slowly at first
and now much faster,
such is the nature of feelings
and how they grow with time
Home
You feel like the home
I never had