Who said love was a fugacious thing to have, when for centuries it has left its mark?
I count myself among those people now
for this supposed love has made me its quiet victim.
What is the thing you hide in the beauty of those eyes
the quiet grief of dreams postponed, still hoping to be seen?
I speak these words as a distant admirer,
one who sees the very you and longs, foolishly, to be the repairer.
Your loving nature shaped me into a poet,
a captive left with nothing but a pen and a notebook.
And when I dip my pen into the *** of ink,
the moment it touches paper,
all the page holds is you.
Hair dark as a starless sky,
lips pink as a sky caught blushing,
an expression enchanting with sudden magic,
a mind intuitive and luminous
enough to turn an ordinary day upward.
Something contagious swirls in the air,
as ethereal as it could be,
leaving me helpless smiling and crying all at once.
I cry the symphony of words I carry for her,
sweeter than my mind ever knew how to imagine.
For you, my words are an understatement,
my tongue a disgrace.
Yet my thoughts for you are endless,
and I will keep pouring them into language I barely understand.
In the hopes that one day they might reach you.
Then I could rest my thoughts.
Then I could be content
knowing I shared with you my words,
my Love...
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 12:55 AM UTC
Who said love was a fugacious thing to have, when for centuries it has left its mark?
I count myself among those people now
for this supposed love has made me its quiet victim.
What is the thing you hide in the beauty of those eyes
the quiet grief of dreams postponed, still hoping to be seen?
I speak these words as a distant admirer,
one who sees the very you and longs, foolishly, to be the repairer.
Your loving nature shaped me into a poet,
a captive left with nothing but a pen and a notebook.
And when I dip my pen into the *** of ink,
the moment it touches paper,
all the page holds is you.
Hair dark as a starless sky,
lips pink as a sky caught blushing,
an expression enchanting with sudden magic,
a mind intuitive and luminous
enough to turn an ordinary day upward.
Something contagious swirls in the air,
as ethereal as it could be,
leaving me helpless smiling and crying all at once.
I cry the symphony of words I carry for her,
sweeter than my mind ever knew how to imagine.
For you, my words are an understatement,
my tongue a disgrace.
Yet my thoughts for you are endless,
and I will keep pouring them into language I barely understand.
In the hopes that one day they might reach you.
Then I could rest my thoughts.
Then I could be content
knowing I shared with you my words,
my Love...
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