In a room full of people,
yet you feel alone.

Always in the house,
but you never feel at home.

The one you dream of
doesn't know you're there.

And you care too much,
when nobody seems to care.

You are sitting still
but your mind is racing.

Your face seems calm
but you heart is pacing.

You are alive,
but feel so dead.

You exist in the world,
but only live inside your head.

We danced away
under the misty starlight.
I was lost in your eyes.
Oh,
what a night.

We woke up
under sheets of rich
red rose-coloured garments
of silk and lavender.

We kissed,
touched,
and cuddled
through the sound of rain
hitting the roof
and through the roars
of lightning
and thunder.

We strolled
through an enchanted,
rich meadow,
and trekked
through the mountains
all covered with  snow.

You looked at me
and told me,
that I should know:
that you love me.
That you wouldn't let me go.

And in that moment,
I said it didn't matter.
That the words weren't necessary.
That they would only get lost,
fragile sound waves obscured
in the chaos of the ether.
Like tears frozen in frost.
I said I could feel it anyway.
I knew it.
That you didn't have to say.
And in that moment,
we were perfect.
Everything was beautiful.
No pain;
except
when *I woke up.

He is
smart
but tries to hide it.

He is
talented
but won't admit it.

He is
handsome
but doesn't know it.

He is
softly spoken
but speaks too little.

He is
loving
but too afraid to show it.

He is
hurt

He is
a poet.