She was a form of art,
for him that would be true;
hung in places like his heart,
so all could see and view.
She was like no other,
for him she's all that mattered,
her beauty too precious to cover
and hide; to flaunt, she'd rather.
She was his favorite color,
for him, a vibrant yellow hue,
an orange, a blue, and more;
that's what he loved for sure.
She was his favorite song,
for him a sweet singsong tune,
where his world could be forever long;
enticing was her rune.
Sadly, that was what all she was
for him, she cannot be with,
a love that's never meant to last—
a poisonous bitter seed.
————————-————————
*"You loved me, right?" She asked him.
"That's all I ever did."*
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
She was a form of art,
for him that would be true;
hung in places like his heart,
so all could see and view.
She was like no other,
for him she's all that mattered,
her beauty too precious to cover
and hide; to flaunt, she'd rather.
She was his favorite color,
for him, a vibrant yellow hue,
an orange, a blue, and more;
that's what he loved for sure.
She was his favorite song,
for him a sweet singsong tune,
where his world could be forever long;
enticing was her rune.
Sadly, that was what all she was
for him, she cannot be with,
a love that's never meant to last—
a poisonous bitter seed.
————————-————————
*"You loved me, right?" She asked him.
"That's all I ever did."*
Happy World Poetry Day.
