Guy.

“You’re not my type.”

But the eyes don’t lie.

And love, we might.

Let’s ride the high,

Gotta be your kryptonite.

No, don’t let my heart die.

Mime.

Life without a dime,

Deemed society’s crime.

You’ll be a mere mime,

In a race against time.

Art.

Killed with that smile,

Please let it last.

Paintings of you,

Made with brushes of lust.

Play with this child,

All night till dusk.

Now close up that mile,

Come into me fast.

Waver.

All you wanted was never ever;

I could be that never never ever.

She wanted that happily ever;

But I could be the one that wavers never.

We thought of forever never,

Damn we knew it wasn’t forever ever.

Come and be my ever lover,

I promise I’ll never ever.

Haze.

A nostalgic scent

Of unwanted feelings and crying eyes;

Of unfulfilled dreams and hunger to succeed;

Of unfated soulmates and lingering touches;

Of unwritten poems and stashed thoughts.

The smell of haze

And a hazy future are synonyms.

A reminder of we’ve come far,

But not quite far enough.

Get-away.

Run away

From the world you loved,

They never understood your ways.

Fade away

From those dreams you had,

They won’t take off anyway.

Done and Dusted.

And at times, I miss you.

I miss how we stumble out of clubs,

Young, intoxicated, and didn’t give a fuck.

I miss the way you say goodbye.

I saw from your eyes,

I know sometimes you lie.

You’ve always fancied me,

You’ve always thought about kissing me.

I feigned ignorance,

I wanted to see your persistence.

You said to me you’re always honest,

But no —

Just this one,

You never would want bluntness.

Sometimes you held my hand,

And I know you wanted to hug.

I could hear you resisting your heart,

I wished you went with your gut.

There were many things strangely accurate.

You were right about me,

But never believed in us.

The number of times —

I bit my lips wishing

Instead it was yours.

The number of times —

You held me up,

Instead of holding me close.

Each time we denied our hearts

From every chance of never being apart.

And still sometimes, I miss you so so much.

Glee.

Everyone’s got their vice.

A gentlemanly swindler.

A high-rolling miser.

A family-driven chauvinist.

A romantic cheater.

A glamorous gold digger.

A kind sex addict.

A life-loving drug abuser.

A religious cultee.

What you would see;

Always half of what it is.

They ask to fight or to flee;

Perhaps just let it be.

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