Why do I write poetry:
Many nights I have slept
With words of yours wrapped all around me
And now every time I lay
Those words whisper to me.
I must write to maintain my sanity.

Why do I write poetry:
Sometimes when I see sunset all I can think of is how you were the light of my eyes and when you left the sun set and it has never dawned since then
And I must write; ode to its remembrance

Why do I write poetry:
Sometimes I get really confused as to where I'm going except that no road will be taking me to you and the brown of the earth is the closest I'll get to have a souvenir of you
And I must write about the brown eyes I no longer wake up to

Why do I write poetry:
Every time you spoke there was a quiet all around while your words etched themselves on my fragile heart
And now there is only chaos left
And I must write to give my heart the silence to reminisce about your voice

Why do I write poetry:
I removed pieces of me to make you a home and now it only aches where my heart should be
And I must write to distract and empty myself of whatever is left

Why do I write poetry:
This is a world where please stay is followed only by a sorry as their response
And I must write because paper never cringes when I confess about my love

There he sits.
The moon is in the sky,
like clockwork.
His personality changed
from yesterday,
along with his clothes.
Tonight, he's draped in stars
and showing only a quarter
of his wonderful personality.
How humble he can be.
He's playing off the light
of the fireflies
like a violinist from a conductor.
Look at that...he's higher
than the shadow connected trees.
My old friend,
you have a flare for the dramatic.

The red roses now lay
Dead on the ground
The violets have withered away
On the wings of wind,
The love that once was there
Will never be
The girl who I was,
Is lost to,
A ghost I never thought I'll see

The poetry pages
Now lay tattered
and torn on the floor,
The writer's pen is also gone
The ink running inside
his vein has dried,
Somewhere he is lost in his suffering and plight

There is a kind of lost
That is never found
A darkness so profound,
There is no scope for hope
A void so vast,
No sound can get through

The mirror now lays
Broken on the bed,
The broken reflections reflects the brokenness inside her heart
Being so young, she should not
But she already fell in love with the company
Melancholia brings

The dimly lit room,
Absorbs all the light the window lets in,
How much more breaths
Before he blends in,
And becomes one with the darkness
That surrounds him

He is not giving up,
but maybe he will give in,
It is so peaceful once
you hit the rock bottom
You can finally lay in peace
With no one calling out your name
No one calling out your name,
**With no care in the world
You can finally be

how absolutely
unassuming one will be
blind-sided by love

a romance on the beach.
the sea breeze hitting my face.
your kisses tasting salty.
sand massaging my toes
as your arms touch my waist.
your smile brighter than the
orange-ish red sunset
with a tinge of tangerine
& a few other colours i
can’t quite make out.
my hair in my face, your soft & gentle but manly hands pushing it out of my face.
that smile again.
your eyes closed, taking a deep breath
as if you’re trying to smell the essence of my soul.
that slight lean as you push forward.
my giggle as your soft lips touch mine.
our lips moving in unison, rhythmic like two lovers making love.
my ***** thoughts.
your smile again.
my smile as you whisper “you’re mine.”
a romance on the beach.
a girl can only dream…

— @beeyroyce.