Lunar beam illuminates her room,
Through sleepless lonely nights,
And plethora of colors.
For a soul she dare to love and adore,
Heart skips a beat,
Seeing him with another.
May she conclude her feeling,
As a parallel line;
Often so close — yet never together.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
I love to write her name,
On every poems and lines,
In hope for her,
To finally be mine.
I love to write her name,
Spelled with utmost attention,
In hope for her,
To realize my affection.
And I love to write her name,
Though my days are blue,
In hope for her,
To have a clue.
But I know,
This ink will go dry,
And this page might be teared,
Yet I will still write your name,
In hope for me — to know your answer.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
I do believe,
When hope seems lost,
And desperation overwhelms
What matters the most — is for him
To look at the midnight sky
I do believe,
With tears shed yesterday,
And fake smile on your lips,
What matters the most — is for her
To relieve one last sigh
Cause when the fireworks spark,
And the clock strikes twelve,
Should both him and her realize
What matters the most — is for them,
To kiss yesterday's pain goodbye.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC