He pens pretty poetry on a paper pad
hoping the mistakes he made would fade,
He counts each and every syllable to be safe
but the metaphors don't speak the fact.
He pens pretty poetry on a paper pad
to display the heartbeats and darker shades
of living the days of replayed heartbreak
just so that he could bury hurt in sand.

His right hand writes away the tears
the years have made him grown bitter;
he shrivels as the roses start to wither
and poems become scribbled cries no one hears.
He ends tear-stained poems before it gets torn
with last words that read loving you was war.

i was once a piece
of beautiful paper,
cut into a heart-shape,
colored with red and
neatly placed at the left
side of my chest.

and then you came
with your heart on fire,
i am enchanted by your warmth
that i let you embrace me.
but i never thought that your fire,
would burn me down.

i was once a piece
of beautiful paper.
but now,
i am no more than
a piece of small gray particles,
ashes,
forgotten ashes
scattered by the wind

never to be found

©IGMS