If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Writings of a Phobophobe.
If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Failed pretty;
Loved ugly.
Drowned in idealism;
Engulfed in fear.
Mustered strength;
Awoken senses.
Smiled in pain;
Albeit crying in love.
She could not capture when
Or how it came from the shadows,
That the brightness in his eyes;
The saturation of his skin,
Became highlights she wanted to see the most.
12am: Go to bed.
2am: I pray for faith.
4am: I dreamt of you.
6am: You’re not here yet.
8am: The heart’s yearning.
10am: You never came.
–
I guess the angels took you
As you’re needed where they are.
Perhaps I deserve this hurt
Because I had a piece of heaven.
But bless me so
Let me sleep better with each passing night.
Scattered mass;
Glorious mess.
Towering strongholds —
The only grasp of reality.
A touch of poison;
A kiss of death.
Your hugs were wreaths
Enclosed with regrets.
Is it greater pain,
To have found true love and lost
Or to never have found before?
“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.
Life without a dime,
Deemed society’s crime.
You’ll be a mere mime,
In a race against time.
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.