I don’t want to write love poems anymore
yet the words won’t stop spilling;
the feelings long gone
but the hurt there to stay,
and I wonder,
who is the one to blame?
you,
or my heart,
which refuses to let go
and write love poems everyday?

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I love sunsets.
It's the time when the sun is so close to fading away,
dwindling near the clouds,
but you still cannot point to the exact moment the orange turns to dark.
Love is like the sunset.
You want to grasp the vivid orange and red hues,
you want to hold those fleeting moments anew,
but you can just never pinpoint,
when it starts fading away,
when the ending begins,
when the warmth starts to wane,
because the sunset could never last forever,
but your love for it would endure,
and sometimes,
it is worth living for…

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Do soulmates even exist in this world’s cruel ways,
Is there actually anyone who would want to stay?
As the days go by, the clock moves ahead
Will I experience love just like I have read?

-

the regret weighing me down
my head spinning around,
I don't know why I believed I was better off on my own
when it's you, my every thought has known.
I yearn for your presence
like the sailor for the shore
I drift in the void
an anchor I have no more,
it's you I long for,
the ache growing strong,
without you,
I'm incomplete,
a heart without it's home…

-

never really ends,
just becomes obsolete,
hurtful,
unwanted…

-

what it's like to feel
what it's like to hurt…

-

the more I had to force myself to believe
that you just don't care
and you would never be
what I dreamed of
you would never be mine…

-

I will forever chase the possibility of something I chose to push away…

-

In the realm of my head
where my fantasies once soared
I fell deeply into your love
wanting more and more.
Through the thoughts of hope
the lies I fed
I longed for a place
where my dreams, now faded, shed.
But as the illusion dissolves
the truth now spreads
my musings were, but
a small weak thread.
It was all in my head.

-

what is pain
if not a deathless disease?
what is love
if not a timeless scar?
what is poetry
if not a way to shatter
and
mend your own heart?

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