And for once
I did not know
where to
begin,
I felt like
I have been looking,
looking for a
love that I
have already
lost.
- Robert M. Drake, Book: Black Butterfly

To the almost love of my life;
I'm sorry I never made it that far
Or had the guts to say
That all I ever wanted was for you to stay.
Or maybe that was the 'all I ever wanted' of my yesteryears

Because now 'all I ever wanted' was for my fears
To disappear, and fade away
Just like you did so many, many, many, days ago
I never saw you in the halls, or dreamt of your smile

The only thing we said with eyes was, "it's been a while"
You filled me with joy and wiped my liquid sadness away from my face
And I'm sorry, I was too exhausted from the chase
I tried to make you love me, and evidently- our stars never aligned.
The universe never gave you the signs.

Oh darling, you made me lovesick
But now I think of you as no more than my once almost lover
And just a friend from the weeks I try to remember
But all I remember out of those weeks
Was trying to be strong when you made me feel weak
And sometimes, I still think about how our bodies could have crashed like waves.

Ironic, isn't it?
You gave me power yet wore me down
You made me happy when I flew too close to the sun and you made me sing sad songs and form frowns
And this is true, because you will always be, the once almost love of my life..

And maybe this will always **** me.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

How many hearts do I have to break before I feel complete?

I love the way
how you rip open your heart for her
even when all she has to offer you is salt for your scars.

I love the way
how you offer me the salt
that was spilled and saved from your scars
I love that burn
Of ripping open my heart for you.

Out of so many people
confessing love to me,
I am still waiting for your confession
Even when I know you will leap out my faith.

I have saved your scars in the inbox
Approving your unsolicited intrusion in heart more than I have accepted myself
I know you still won't come by yourself.

It's been years of waiting
For you to claim me as your possession
But you have been so much in love
With someone else.

I have known this for years
But I lack courage to accept it
First love is unforgettable
Even if it's one sided.

Your memories are marked important in the inbox
But still you will never come by yourself.