You come to me, broken and torn,
I heal the wounds that she has worn.
You saw heaven in her gentle eyes,
while I was breaking in silent goodbyes.

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You sat there early, sharp and bright,
handsome smile in evening light.
I walked in late, heart a mess,
your eyes met mine — a soft confess.

Our cups stayed full, but time flew past,
you roast me gently, I laugh at last.

I know you’re not mine, yet I stay—
adoring you like an artist’s way,
who loves a painting, but never owns🥹

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You're like the moon—soft, yet far,
a gentle light, my guiding star.
You give me hope, but not your hand,
just like the moonlight on the sand.

Not mine to hold, not here to stay,
yet I still wait for you everyday.

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In the middle of my verses,
half-written lines and paused rhymes,
between the pages of stories
where lovers meet and part—
I miss you.

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You left me for the way I burn,
But love was hiding in each turn.
My anger spoke the words unsaid,
A fire born of tears I shed.

You stayed through storms, then walked away,
Said you deserve a gentler day.
Still, I wear the scars you gave —
The only part of you that stayed.

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Your voice - It doesn't leave . It rises from my chest , echoing through the hollows of my heart , taking over every sound around me until the world is made only of you.

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For every scar you gave me, I wrote a verse , Now I own a library

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Eventually even the most beautiful chapter comes to an end as you turn the page

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Your presence makes my poetry beautiful

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