I remember my first crush
It gave me the greatest rush
I wanted to be with him all the time
****, can someone be so handsome?
It should definitely be a crime!

I was so smitten by him
The sight of him would give me butterflies
He always looked fresh and never grim
I could never look away from those eyes.

I would find ways
to stay near him
And each and every day
my eyes would look only for him.

I knew his favourite song
I knew his favourite colour
Our small conversations
would leave me in a fluster.

I would smile all the time
because this crush of mine…
It gave me the greatest rush
It was hard to keep it hush
after all, it is a crush.

i stood witness
to a scene---
a king and queen,
their love serene.
a painter's dream;
a poet's delight;
their love aglow
in gentle night.
he leaned in close,
with lips so light,
upon her cheeks,
a tender flight---
the king's sweet smile,
a sunlit embrace;
the queen's fair blush,
a delicate trace.
how i wished
to hold still the air,
capture their love
in a canvas so rare
but love's vibrant palette
moves and evolves,
in the tapestry of time,
it resolves.
to paint their love
in hues so fine
is to capture the essence
of love's design.
in my strokes of paint,
in my shades of rhyme,
their story lives
beyond the confines of time.

Ω

She wishes she could tell you that she's doing better.
She wanted to express her feelings, and you let her.

Now, acknowledged she does feel,
Her wounds continue to heal.

She knows why you pushed her away,
There's a reason why she couldn't say what she wanted to say,
That day, in the cafe.

She wants you to achieve your crazy idea and let you do whatever it is that you need to do,
She doesn't have what it takes to be angry at you. It is the truth, she'll always love you.

She is sorry that she was rude,
And ruined your mood over the food.
She didn't wish to hurt you with her words so crude,
But that's the way she does brood.
You didn't have to hear her nonsense, dude.

You, she'll never have the strength to claim,
Yet, she lights up each time she hears your name,
She loves you still, she loves you and will always feel the same,
It is not that she'd wait for you, more like she can't move on.
It her fault, you should not get the blame.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, for the first time in forever I speak directly for no reason:)

happy
guess what sad
literally don't know who I am

somebody is always touching you even the air
guess how many lives you touched not me
and you'll reach the middle of nowhere

want my body buried dug in the ocean deep a marine funeral
guess why the death is thinking about me
corpses floating around some fish some greens too numeral

maybe the sun today the last time sets flush
guess where I'm headed would be the end of me
make the best out of it is a matter that won't make me blush


                                                         ­                                  -------ravenfeels

and when i told him
just how beautiful he was
tossing a pomegranate seed in the air
and catching it gracefully
between his rose-coloured lips
it seems the pomegranate juice
had temporarily stained his pale cheeks

Most girls love having crushes.
The thought of someone new.
Asking themselves, “Is this it? Could this be the one?”
Allowing themselves to be hopeful that this one will be different.
But then there’s girls like me.
Girls who have anxiety.
I hate the feeling of liking someone new.
I hate having crushes.
While other’s get butterflies,
I get angry wasps.
My heart doesn’t skip a beat.
Instead it pounds against my chest like I just ran a marathon.
I don’t blush.
My chest heats up and gets covered in red splotches.
When I look down at the ground I’m not doing it to be cute.
It’s better to look at the ground than to look into another set of eyes that will never love you.
While some girls lose sleep out of pure bliss,
I lose sleep because of fear of rejection.
I’m not asking myself, “Could this be the one?”
No, I’m asking myself, “How will this one break my heart?”
But I will let this crush crush me.
I’ll soak in my hurt.
Make myself fully aware of the tears running down my face.
Remember how they feel.
And I will move on.
Like I always do.
“Weeping may last through the night,
But joy comes with the morning.”
Psalms 30:5