Irony.

I didn’t use to have a lot of confidence, not really high-esteemed. A lot of what I think or others think I have now, was not something that was evident to me. In fact, I thought I was the total opposite. 
For a start, I never knew I could write enough to save my life.

There were a lot of people I used to care about. Far too many. Too many not because they don’t deserve it, but because I spread myself too thin trying to please everyone. I believe to everyone I meet on every touchpoint, I was sincere and open. But how could I possibly be able to maintain so many precious friendships? I lost contact with some of them. 

At times, I really really miss them very very very much. 

Advertisements

Chance.

A hidden love;

A silent word.

Emotional glances;

Swift advances.

You ignited this fervour,

Now I’d take all the chances.

Closer.

Your scent,

The air I breathe.

My favorite temperature,

The heat you emit.

Fondness

Missing you when we’re apart.

But — we’re always apart

Since close is never close enough.

Light.

Emotions,

She was trying to hide.

Been a year,

Waiting to subside.

Insecure,

Desperate for a guide.

Perhaps a man like him,

To bring her light.

Simple.

Love is,

Being with a simple person

With an extraordinary soul,

Who makes simple things

Feel like extraordinary experiences.

Kiss.

Locking eyes,

Locking lips.

May our kisses be filled,

With trueness of feelings;

Withdrawal be prolonged,

With passion lingering.

Never once in the future,

Be a regimental action

Of a set of programmed responsibilities;

Or be forgotten amongst negativity.

Old.

Memories are cages

Trapping our souls,

Holding on to our ages

And the people old and bold.

Those that survive,

We’ll be laughing ’til there are tears;

Those that didn’t,

They’ll be part of a past so queer.

True.

I know you are the one,

‘Cause whatever questions my heart asked,

Yours answered.

There was no fear,

There was no abuse.

I know when you are near,

I know that, finally, you are one that is true.

Garden.

Be not like a flower —

It expires when it withers.

Perhaps be like creepers —

Undying and unrelentless.

Or maybe be like water —

Adaptable and renews in cycles.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: