Will I be told
"Pretty, poet"?

-

Rainbows,
the pack of seven colours
arch down just the same
yet taste different
at each stage of life.

-

are faded dreams
refusing to leave
their shadows casting
those dreaded dark circles
the missed opportunities
parade every night
reminding the times
I failed to understand myself

-

Attempting rapid fire, do they
enhance my writings?
Of course, without attempting them
how'll you harness or assess your potential?

-

Why would letters prick
whilst writing YOU?
Love, the red rose withered
and naked thorns poke.
Will love bloom again?

-

She

a semi precious stone
I hold in my locket,
my hidden source of strength.

-

View from my window

A wonder parade
wandering to quench
my thirsty eyes.

-

If black is the color of loneliness
I remind myself of the day
I wore rainbows, dancing to the jingles
of life, attracting those eyes
I carefully read the signs of love
visible in his eyes that moved
only in the directions of my moves.

-

I silently sob
looking for words
with hope to convince
the love that left me
in a quest to find a better place.
will love return?

/caption/

-

The smell of artificiality
is hidden everywhere, conquering
hearts sporadically, influencing
them with fake promises of
extended life while in reality, feeding on
ventilators can never replace originality.

-