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arcanedave Jul 2019
there are moments when you meet someone
and they look at you in the eyes
and they say something with so much emotion
you know it's real

there are times when you can feel that person's love for you
with a simple touch
and there are moments  when you know that they're looking at you
and admiring your natural beauty

love is something special
silence is comfy
holding hands is relaxing
hearing their voices makes all of your problems go away

the feeling in your chest when you see them
doesn't have words to explain
the emotion you feel when they hug you
can't be expressed

love is something
so beautifully special
and so horribly
life changing
arcanedave Apr 2019
maybe you are right
maybe we are not meant for each other

i tried my best to stay
but you keep pushing me away

you shoved me with your cold, cold attitude
like winter in the arctics

i realized there is no use for me
to chase after you any longer

the longer i stay
the more it hurts

maybe i am not
good enough for you

what am i?
just a speck of dust in your galaxy

lost in your orbit
trying to find my way home

so now,
i decided

to stop
chasing after you

thank you
for the memories

thank you
for the chance

to hold you in my arms
even if it's only for a while

so goodbye,
i hope you find a better man.
based on true story.
arcanedave Feb 2019
the poet is jealous;
envious that he lacks recognition
he wants to be like other poets

the poet seeks attention;
his pieces are not sincere anymore
he lies when he writes

the poet is ailing;
slowly and unconsciously writing to impress
and not to express

the poet has gone numb;
plain and heartless,
he can’t feel a thing

the poet is screaming;
feel, feel, feel!
yet the words had lost their allure

the poet tries to write;
sadness no longer fuels his creativity
letters scattered is all that written

the poet is lost;
he doubted his purpose of writing
he feels that he should stop

the poet is helpless
he cried for help
but no one bothered to move an inch

the poet is feeling plain
he lost passion in everything he loved
he lost himself

the poet,
is now dead.

— The End —