If I give you love
what will I get in return?
will it be acknowledged?
or will it be but spurned?
If I offer my love
will you be mine forever?
or will you laugh at me
and say to me   - not ever.
Am I just a fool in love?
head over heels and blind?
silly and sheepish, blushing
not knowing what's in my mind?
I stand on the steps of happiness
worried, lest I fall
falling at your feet
all curled up in a ball.
Columbus took a chance
and by God - he did all right
I cannot leave you now
without putting up a fight.
I smiled and said I love you
my voice began to crack
but your eyes lit up I swear
as you smiled at me right back!

If you fold up your paper,
turn off your radio and TV,
sit on the steps and sip your tea,
watch the birds and speak no words
as the sun rises yellow and round,
making rainbows on the dewy lawn,
you could fool yourself into thinking
there’s no ****** war going on.

in another universe,
i would hold your hand,
walk around town with you,
and write our names on the sand.

in another universe,
we would bicker over little things,
like who has to wash dishes tonight,
or who gets up when the doorbell rings.

in another universe,
i would savour the taste of your lips,
memorizing every single crease,
as i grab onto your hips.

in another universe,
i would openly stare,
bury my head into your neck,
and do the things i would never dare.

in another universe,
i would make the first move,
pretending i don't really care,
but secretly hoping you approve.

in another universe,
i would not remain in the sidelines,
i'd barge my way into your heart,
dressed up to the nines.

in another universe,
you would spare me a glance,
notice me for a mere moment,
as i leave you entranced.

in another universe,
i would write this poem beside you,
we would intertwine our bodies,
perhaps, even laugh about it too.

in another universe,
i wouldn't wish for the us in a multiverse,
i would embrace you at dawn,
instead of writing this tragic verse.

"... and we were like parallel lines. We were not destined for each other and will never be."

"It depends on what type of geometry you're referring to. In hyperbolic geometry, parallel lines meet at an ideal point - a point at infinity. I don't mind living in hyperbolic space. Would you?"

it's never going to work between
the girl whose love language is poems
and the boy whose love language is
peeling off her prawn shells

she wants him to immortalize her
through words on paper
but he's too busy folding her
1000 origami paper cranes

he wants her to bring him
breakfast in bed for his birthday
but she's too busy quoting love songs
that reminds her of him

there was a language barrier between them

it made them doubt each other

"does he really love me?"
she asks herself as he braids her hair
while she talks about the deeper meaning behind her poems

"does she really love me?"
he asked himself as she romanticized every little thing he does for her
and writes about it

perhaps, she will never know just how much he loves her when he's building her a library for all the books she owns

perhaps, he will never know just how much she loves him when she writes about how days without him felt like an eternity