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She is water

She dance like the waves
Swaying as the wind blows
Soft enough when she's calm
And tough enough when she's mad

She is not a real water
But deep enough to make me drown
Well basically, 60 percent of the human's body is made up of water. Lol
I can't remember
Whether it's love or leave
That hurts the most
Count on me
When you need a friend
Count on me
Just take my hand
Count on me
I’ll lead the way
Count on me
Come with me, this way
Count on me
To be a listening ear
Count on me
Never to judge
Count on me
Always to be there
Count on me
Count your blessing with me
Always you can....
             COUNT ON ME
Close your eyes

Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending


Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams

I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland

and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?

I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built


Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
And your body falls into each soft fold
It's here, right here, that I can hold
you close, keep you safe and warm
so you, from the rest of the world
I'll withhold

Consider this a "romantic poem".. but not about me! Actually, this is a story I've sort of written. :)

Hmm, let me try to describe it. A little girl living in a world all her own, a world that's nothing more than an empty quilt with an endless sky. Above her, lives a sort of "sky-creature" and he happens to be in love with her, so he builds her a castle of stars.
 Sep 2018 Anne Curtin
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
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