Amidst scents of flowers,
He was greenery.
Sunday afternoons
Love was the best scenery.
Masterpiece.
Love is like art.
Uncertain strokes,
Building up confidence into a masterpiece.
Like photography,
Forever immortalised in that moment.
Like a concocted scent,
Familiar and fleeting, leaves you craving.
Like aged wine,
Best kept in the memory cellar —
To be appreciated,
And savoured in the present.
To create beauty lasting of all time,
How many false starts do we take?
Slow, peaceful art —
Are we running out of time?
Anxious.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Footsteps hurrying.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Raindrops fighting.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Fingers stimming.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Her heart thudding.
Blue.
Deep, dark and blue,
Under white sheets, crinkled and rippled.
Drowning in bubbles,
With pockets of glee escaping the abyssal.
Silent yet loud,
Very much dead, yet throbbing for revival.
Friends.
There’d be bad times.
There’d be good times;
There’d be some after your dime;
There’d be ones that last a lifetime.
Whir.
Counting each time
You made my heart race,
Like needles on the sewing machine,
Thumping in and out.
Fast and slow
Then turning the edges,
Whirring along the outline of us
Slightly hurting yet seals us complete.
Villain.
A touch of poison;
A kiss of death.
Your hugs were wreaths
Enclosed with regrets.
Anew.
You’ve forgotten how to love.
You’ve forgotten your own worth.
Suppressing your needs for another,
At her beck and call.
Money, time and pride
You gave it all.
The beauty of love,
Is that it is mutual.
I’d show you,
If you’d love anew.
Pain.
Is it greater pain,
To have found true love and lost
Or to never have found before?
Impudence.
Face,
I wouldn’t forget
Tenderness,
I’ll give to beget.
–
Battle of the wits,
We’re two wholly misfits
Others could jeer,
But I’ll stay with you here.
killgwen 