I hear the ghosts of forgotten memories singing me rhymes
Ryhymes narrating temporary love
And phony smiles.
I feel the breeze pulling me towards the graves of desire and honesty
Killed by inhuman deadlines and insatiable responsibilities.
I listen to the waves rant over all the pain which finds its way to the shore
The sorrow gazing towards infinity, helplessy in search of second chances and welcoming doors.
But hush! i hear a knock, a silent reminder from my routine
Calling me back to reality, devilishly, snatching away my moment of ephiphany
Hidden beneath my perfected manners
Are mystical desires to drown
In the darkness of a lonely night
Along with my forgotten lover
To sing the embarrassing verse
From my diary which is hidden under my bed covers
To dive in the sea of memories
And relive them drop by drop
To lie under the shadows of ignored trees
On the lap of the dead and the lost
Beneath my perfected manners
There lays a wild ambition
And not survive
To risk what is left
Be proud for you weren’t cursed with the shallowness of a betraying heart
And you were denied the ability to forget the good.
For you have a heart so big that can bury the pain of your forgotten deeds
And can still smile over the hypocrite gratitude.
Be proud for you have enough love to waste
Enough love to help you move past the temporary selfish beings.
For you can give, give, and give
And expect nothing
Apart from the fake desperate smiles.
Let me touch you today
Let me brush over your bruises today
Let me hold your
Let me cage your smile today
Let me remind you of your childhood today
Let me take you back to your forgotten toy.
Let me sing your sorrows today
Let me narrate the strength you portrayed
While battling with the worldly lies.
Let me replay your desires today
Let me walk you through how hard you worked
For everything you achieved.
Dear older one
Take you to
You will be loved
Loved deeply, by a poet,
You will be narrated
In a verse
And be flattered by its complexity
You will fall for his honest rhyme
And drown in the melody of his singing words
You would want to curl in the meter
Of his thoughts
And hunt for his raw desires
You will be loved
Deeply, honestly and plainly,
By a poet.