You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
At night's when she thinks of her dreams
it's when she thinks of her lost ambitions
At night is when she can't escape her mind
when all she can do is listen
Listen to the sound of echoes
Listen to the sound of inner tears
Listen to the sound of burried hope
And to the sound of all her darkest fears
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC