Capsule.

For the words left unwritten;

Next life they’d be already given.

Of passion left unspoken;

Joys be kept till they’re ready to open.

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.

Blind.

Cash we seek;

Glory we chase,

But man, I’d tell you that’s just surface.

Even with all the success

But our hearts misplaced,

It’ll be real doom

No matter what we taste.

But that’s really just a peek

At the consequence we’ll face.

“We want happiness,”

And that’s all we say.

Look at us now —

Alive but dead.

What do we have now?

“Blindness to kindness,” I’d say.

Try.

Sometimes I feel like I forgot

How to cry.

Sometimes all we need is

Someone to pry.

Sometimes I want to rant till

My mouth runs dry.

Sometimes all we need is

That someone to try.

Dove.

Going double

It spells trouble.

Son of a gun,

They call it fun.

Evil is love

Masked as a dove.

Twisted fate

And undying hate.

Left at the end,

A broken heart to mend.

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. 

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.

Primary.

Color me yellow,

If you see the bellows turn mellow.

Color me red,

If you see anger and is not afraid.

Color me blue,

If you see a solemn soul that is true.

Color me beautiful,

If you can take all yellow, red and blue.

Little.

She writes all these lovely things,

She attempts to understand feelings.

She wants to feel something – 

Anything.

But who is she kidding?

Inside her, she’s a little dead, lost and wandering.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: