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Oct 2017 · 301
ocean
Pedro Garcia Oct 2017
Ignore me in all forms
For someone as wonderful as you
I can only be washed up in your wave
To crash upon the shore and cough up my dignity
Struggle to breathe in your love
Gasping gasping
Every breath growing desperation
Please allow me to drown
Drown in the ocean you embody
Succumbing to your being
My choice would be to die
To fail or to surrender
Because to be with you means to **** myself
I can never be all that you are
I can only be myself
myself that isn't strong enough to swim in your waves
To be refreshed in your care
or to be thrashed in your maelstrom
Ignore me please
I'll sink into the abyss of your trenches
wildly flailing
all the way down
without hope of getting out
defeated and deprived
I'm not strong enough
To swim against your currents
or even wade in your tides
so please leave me be
I don't wish to die in your tempest
Oct 2017 · 277
uncomfortable
Pedro Garcia Oct 2017
lukewarm night
with your charcoal hue
pervaded by unnatural light
my eyes quake
tired but restless
forced to stay open
a heart wide awake
these mud brown pupils
swimming in irritated red
crickets ringing
mocking
can't fall asleep
can't fall apart
can't fall again
thump thump thump
sweat sweat sweat
please let me rest
legs stick together
moist and warm
uncomfortable
neck won't stop itching
scratch scratch scratch
red irritated skin
matching set with eyeballs
humid air feels yucky in my throat
discomfort and displeasure
tummy rumbles
not sure if empty or full
brain can't stop thinking
not sure if empty or full
eyelids slip
eyeballs quake
rinse and repeat
teeth feel coated in soda
worst kind of coat
wanna brush teeth
don't wanna get up
just wanna sleep
toss and turn
face in pillow no good
sleeping face up feels weird
back pain in the morning anyway
but please let me sleep now
tired eyes of mine
anxious heart of mine
uncomfortable body of mine
please let me sleep
Oct 2017 · 204
spite
Pedro Garcia Oct 2017
I absolutely abhor you
you wildcard
you do what you want
because your wants change by the day
I only do what I do because I adore you
chained to obsession
I can only linger so far
until the links tighten and pull me back towards you
yet I have to watch you
caress my face and tossle my hair
kiss me sweetly
then walk away
to do whatever it is that makes you happy
but when the only thing that makes me happy is you
it becomes a real burden
like a happy pup
I wag my tail and tap my paws when you give me your attention
leave me and I'll faithfully stand by the door
waiting for your return so I can smile again
I may amuse myself around my limited world
but at the end of the day
nothing makes me happier than your presence
and so I suffer when what you want to do doesn't include me
some days I like to pretend
like I hate you
like what you do is awful
like I deserve better
but truthfully you do
you should be able to love me in the way you want
not the way I demand
I should be able to love you in a way you can handle
not become rowdy when you can't understand me
we want different things
but we both want each other
because when it comes to finding people you like
there are a few you can spend every moment with
and those are the people you can never fully let go
so I'll ignore you when you want to see me
but I'll go because I need to see you
I'll act indifferent when you want to hang out
but I'll be happy to be around you
I'll do what I can to make you think I'm not crazy
but my heart won't stop racing until we part
I love you
and that's why I hate you
Oct 2017 · 320
wondrous
Pedro Garcia Oct 2017
get out of my head you sapphire eyed beauty
don't pervade my life with that wondrous smile
leave my heart alone with your infectious laugh
stop with the enjoyable quips of your life back home
the more I know, the more I care, and the more I care to know
if you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to want some milk
if you give me too much attention, I'm going to want your love
and to love you is the mistake that'll be my end
to spend my time thinking about the cute way you say y'all
to fantasize about the taste of those supple lips
or to become lost in hearing your rambles about life
doesn't matter what you're talking about
I'll eat up every word
becoming an anxious little boy every time you suggest getting together
losing my silver tongue whenever I'm in your presence
words like daggers when you talk about the men who covet you
it's more than your skin which radiates of marvelous florida beaches
it's more than those ivory teeth which reside in that five star smile
it's more than those azure blue eyes which captivate my greedy peepers
you're special to me not because you're an angel
you're special to me because every moment with you is heaven
so cast aside those charming glances and do away with your silky voice
sheathe those killer looks and put away your honest conversation
stop asking for this dance
once I get lost in the motions I'll glide through the steps
enthralled by your being
spare me the trouble love
Oct 2017 · 300
fairweather love
Pedro Garcia Oct 2017
the days pass by like leaves in fall
some days yellow some days red
but you breathe life into my dull routine
whether you mean to or not
you are the blooming spring amongst my life's winter
so I will adore you
till my heart bursts
and my smiles decay
like the leaves that fall in the autumn breeze
to empty my branches and reveal my wicked form
you make me want to flourish and yet you don't mind when I'm barren
the seasons pass slowly when I'm with you
and the winter's frigid ice is melted by the hearth of your being
be my spring and I'll be your blossoms
you are the summer wind and I am the gentle waves
kiss me with your warm embrace and lead me towards uncharted shores
Mar 2017 · 463
Self-Loathing Slumber
Pedro Garcia Mar 2017
Time once again for the mind’s late night talk show, and what better a time then under the moon’s late night chalk glow!
The time for the mind to run rampant with fear, depression, paranoia, sorrow, ailing feelings coupled with thoughts quite unclear
Run away little boy, from the shadow of a man, from the shadow of your desires, run away if you can
Hide under the blanket, the pillow, or a smile. No comforts can save you from yourself, a toxic dream factory most vile
Lose yourself in the light of your distracting mundane phone, it won’t stop the nightmares that plague you when alone
Toss and turn as the poison seeps and your heart weeps, the discomfort is delightful as you squirm while the fog creeps
Shrouded in the mist, paralyzed at the legs and tied down at the wrists, the romantic interlocking marks that a weak mind and horror kissed
May your terrors come to life, and your heart fear the worst. May you flinch at every strife as your soul is now cursed.
Once again the boogeyman comes to toy with your mettle, your courage being whittled down petal by petal
When he gets to the stem, he shakes you at your core, instilling the mayhem until you can take no more
Before you cried at the world because to the world you were small, now you are enveloped by dark where you are nothing at all
Insignificant to the empty void of black, an abyss with no break, chip, or crack
But why are you bent on the judgment of vacancy, why should nothing make you ashamed of complacency
Why have you given up on challenging your fear, why would you rather be anywhere but here
The nightmare isn’t the bloodied visages of the ghosts and the ghouls, nor is it the paranoia invading the minds of madness stricken fools
Single out all the devil’s playthings and the mind’s erroneous states, add in the bad luck which binds all of our fates
May I face all those dreadful barbarities in a convenient sum, for the weight of their abhorrence would fare better than living in the shadow of who I could become
Aug 2016 · 370
What does it mean
Pedro Garcia Aug 2016
What does it mean
When my breathing hastens to quick desperate spurts
What does it mean
When my heart engorges with terrified anxiety
What does it mean
When I feel so utterly helpless
My eyes fried from hours of entertainment, journeys of heroes and salvation
All the stories I’ve been told where the brave man perseveres through anguish and strife
Yet not all heroes virtuous, flawed as I am and just as helpless at times
In the end, they are always saved, rescued by powers above them
But for me to depend on powers above myself, I feel so selfish
Who am I to deserve the attention and aid where it can be better spent on those who help themselves better
Those who stand themselves up and avoid travesty before it befalls them
The wise who stand tall where my knees buckle, and face righteously at the perils which intimidate my weak mettle
Other endings include heroes whose cunning or hidden strength prevails
Yet I feel exhausted, my melancholy tears bear no fruit towards further courage
No skills to boast or helpful traits to fall back on, just a mind bottled in with emotions of despair and gloom; shaken periodically for good measure
There also exists interlocking stories, where answers lie in the unity of friends, a jovial resolution where people create happiness together
Pride and embarrassment prevent me from a similar fate, as it is not in my interests to bring a wretched mind to the feet of my humble friends
Tainting their bliss and tarnishing the image of myself in their eyes, all sullied over a dejected mentality which may not be purified by their hands
Should Darwin’s theory prove true and I be trampled among the ill-equipped to excel in such an unfair reality, I’d be satisfied in knowing that I fulfilled my mission
To be beaten down and erased for the sole purpose of proving that the inferior cannot survive, to that point I would at least have served some use
Right now in limbo, where I must decide what kind of story my life defines, existentialism besets my feeble pathetic mind
Others live their stories, miles and oceans away, struggling through hardships infinitely more terrible
Here I whine and sob at the follies of my character and injustices I cannot control, acting as though the weight of the world were ****** upon my shoulders
Burdens weigh what they shall affect of a person, issues ranging from ant-hills or mountains, snowballs or avalanches, rain drops or tempests
However, I am cursed with a worrying disposition which magnifies my feeling of horror and desperation
Then the question remains
What does it mean
When I find myself, face in pillow, hoping to be clumsily pranced along to the next scene in my life like a miserable marionette
What does it mean
When I disappoint the people in my life, and have to bear the weight of their sunken faces
What does it mean
When I pretend everything will collapse upon me just because things haven’t gone my way

What does it mean
Jun 2016 · 333
stained mirror
Pedro Garcia Jun 2016
***** white cap, once pristinely perfect but carelessly soiled by ignorant hands
chipping green walls, a gentle calming color breaking away piece by piece to flaunt its original ugly palette
Socks with holes, big and small, taken for granted and willingly allowed to continue in poor shape
generously filled bottles of cologne, unused and untouched, a dream presentability accompanied by aroma shattered by melancholy indifference
empty soda cans, an adoration for sweet sensation followed by a bittersweet regret in rotten yellowed teeth
grease stained shirts, a consequence of gluttonous irresponsibility as well as a tragic reminder of one's forgotten delicate care
wrinkled oxford shirts and lost pairs of cufflinks, to lose touch with formalities and absorb a lifestyle without need to dress with pride
this house has no coasters, tables are decorated with ring stains interlocking, each one the same short story: "whoops"
once glimmering and shining silver, tarnished and neglected, now shine dully whilst sitting idly untouched
hair is a tangled mess, face is chaotically barbaric, body is an instrument out of tune, a person whose had a falling out with biological pleasantries
where the ambition to improve becomes absent, an abysmal house suffers and low ambition discourages change of mindset
a ***** mirror, in it the reflection of a stranger, eyes with no spark and an empty expression
frankly, it would appear its visage happier than mine, our faces and our surroundings look the same but the cloud that looms over me cannot be reflected
Depression affects a person more than just mentally, digging yourself into a hole is easy, digging yourself out is not.
Jun 2016 · 400
Awake
Pedro Garcia Jun 2016
again, I find myself awake.
I’m sure you’re asleep, in his arms, wound tightly and pressing your body against his
I’m sure you’re asleep, with his face in your hair wafting in your sweet aroma
I’m sure you’re asleep, dreaming of the life you’ll live with the man you chose over me
I know you don’t think of me anymore, and when I message you, you say you still love me
but those are only words, and words don’t comfort me on these lonely nights
words don’t lie next to me in this half empty bed under the slivers of moonlight
words aren’t remedies for heartbreak nor antidotes for love sickness
If you did love me, then why is it that you reply the next day and apologize because you were so busy with him
If you did love me, why did you move in with him, how come I can see his presence in all of the snapchats you send me
If you did love me, why did you choose him over me, how come you can have two hearts and I’ve nary a one
I’m sure you’re asleep,  blissfully unaware that I lay awake thinking of you
when you wake up, your first thought will be of him
when you wake up, your first sight will be his face
when you wake up, your first smile will be for him
and when you fall back asleep, you’ll have spent the whole day without even thinking of me once
you’ll fall back asleep, and I’ll still be awake, tortured every agonizing moment thinking of you
but just because I’m awake, doesn’t mean I’m not tired
I wish I could sleep
forever
May 2016 · 824
Luck
Pedro Garcia May 2016
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion
To be lucky or  unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky
You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand
Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold!
People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette.
Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows
With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad
Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
This is actually really tacky but I'm experimenting.
Apr 2016 · 473
Scholarly Folly
Pedro Garcia Apr 2016
Another wonderful night, quite a college student's delight.
I sit with a book open but no mind to read, no mind to heed, instead I type up this grieving student's creed.
See, there lies within me the desire to study and succeed, a desire that holds the ferocity of a bear!
But much like a bear, it lies dormant in there, hibernating without a care for my fruitless despair, and I must say, it's kind of unfair.
Nevertheless, here I begrudgingly open up my textbook for law, staring in awe with an unhinged jaw since the words on the page seem to only make me go "uhh."
I have a quiz, a midterm,a research paper, and much more to follow! Unfortunately, the information is a bit much to swallow. And frankly I'm worried my head just might be hollow. So, within my tears I'll continue to wallow.
So I read, and I re-read.
I cry, and I re-cry.
I give up, and I give up, albeit on tackling a different beast.
My only solace is the little mini-naps, closing my eyes for just a second or two, just to refresh my mind and continue reading the ch-

or waking up in an awkward position on the couch with my laptop on and my glasses barely holding onto my face, another morning of realizing I only did half the work I intended to!
Apr 2016 · 1.2k
Panic
Pedro Garcia Apr 2016
math test in three hours
don't know math, but what a great
time for some haiku poetry
Mar 2016 · 462
Nontitled
Pedro Garcia Mar 2016
it seems to be a split whether a title is significant or not
while poems are written freely, a title requires much thought
a meaningful title which embodies the piece as a whole
or perhaps a non-intrusive title to present the work is the goal
to place trivial importance on an irrelevant aspect of presentation
but some may see a meaningful gesture that requires much contemplation
there are those who see titles as creative outlets that require an imagination unbridled
however that is a point that is tough to argue when so many poems are still called Untitled
Mar 2016 · 570
Material Love
Pedro Garcia Mar 2016
She stole it from me, the warmth of my world
Without hesitation, she took away my shelter from the cold
Borrowing without even asking, her eyes gave away the whole exchange
That gal didn’t have to plea, wouldn’t have worked on me
Frankly I didn’t want her to have it, it was rightfully mine
But who am I to deny a face so beauteous, I had no power
You can’t put a price on the smile of an angel
However, that hoodie cost me 140+ dollars with shipping, so love be ****** in the name of fashion
how dare she
Mar 2016 · 374
Shell
Pedro Garcia Mar 2016
With every deliberate thought, I find myself to be self-destructive
Where I should be progressive or productive, I yearn for your memory
Some might assume that this habit is a sign, but the sign’s message seems to be “CAUTION” or “DANGER”
Yet it doesn’t seem pertinent to worry my troubled heart over the sentiments of any stranger
Heavy sighs and idle expressions, the shelter of my bed being my vehicle for this ride of depression
There must be something more than this hollow feeling, a goal or a motivation to press forward
What becomes of a man when he loses his heart, for it would be an absolute waste to let the mind and body lie dormant
Through emptiness and weariness, one may reach a point where they grow tired of being tired
To be tired of being something, then tired of being nothing, and then tired of being incomplete
Mar 2016 · 318
Significance of Commute
Pedro Garcia Mar 2016
The blurred visage of a transitioning landscape,
The clammer and clack of the iron horse’s speedy march,
The whirring and monstrous surprise of an urgent adjacent train,
Creaks and screeches of metals colliding constantly,
A continuous drone of the air-conditioning apparatus,
Firm seats that provide minor comfort in their unattractive red and tan leather,
A faux cheery ticket collector whose presence assures authority,
Mild artificial lights which illuminate a quiet scene,
Innumerable strangers with stories all their own,
A commute to start and end my day,
The transition, silent and dreary, yet entirely necessary
From a sleepy little town to a city without slumber,
To enjoy the restlessness of a city with an identity of its own
Or be complacent and relaxed in a town with a name unknown
Both are appreciable, but the journey truly serves to emphasize their great qualities
Pedro Garcia Mar 2016
The pursuit of love and adoration is both laughable and admirable
To enslave oneself to the delusions of passion and loyalty
Yet to find enjoyment from an activity intangible in a consumerist world
To begin a journey with the goal to find one person to want you always
Yet also find the failures and short-lived flames equally admirable
To overlook the flaws and forever cherish the exquisite qualities of another
Yet additionally find happiness in sharing your existence with that sweetheart
To promise to sacrifice whatever be possible in order to have someone with you
Yet to also receive the undying and immense devotion of your significant other
To abandon a life where you could rely on yourself and need no one
Yet inherit a hope and the considerable joy of opening your heart to someone
It is a foolish endeavor, that wicked and vile pursuit of love
Yet to that love I will always be a pursuing fool
Jan 2015 · 375
Masterpiece
Pedro Garcia Jan 2015
It's times like these I wish you could see me work so I could stare at that smile that I love so dearly, but it's alright that you can't be here since I know you're busy and besides, I can still envision your image so clearly.
It started with that smile, those gleaming teeth which sought to keep me infatuated for a while.  
Then it moved on to your eyes, the twinkling sapphire treasures which cannot escape my visage despite so many tries.
Slowly it became your face, with every glance it was quite apparent that your looks were blessed with every charm and grace.
My brush quickly moved onto your gracious golden locks of hair, untamed yet silky and unbelievably fair.
Next it came to include your neck, coupled with your head it would be a wondrous bust perfectly chiseled and shined to be free of any blemishing speck .
Outlining your ******* and your shoulders, you'd be mistaken for the fair Helen whose famed looks were fought over between Greek and Troy soldiers.
Brushing in your stomach and hips, the beauty of your image arouses and I cannot stop the involuntary quiver of my lips.
Strokes which create in my composition your arms and your hands, there's an unveiling of beauty like winds uncovering a pyramid hidden in the sands.
I pay special attention to drawing in your well- formed thighs, your slender legs, capturing the natural attractiveness of your delicate feet; myself as the artist witnessing the creation of a masterpiece ready to be unveiled to the world, and for myself reserved the very best seat.
A deep breath, a last stroke, a moment to regain composure.
My heart a drum, my hands made of cement, my eyes shutters that won't open, and my mind not ready for closure.
The thought of you is unbearable, I'm in a panic and I dip my brush in the darkest shade of red.
Enlightened by your love yet scarred by your memory, doting upon all the questions unanswered and the words I should have said.
Nights like these, where my body is limp and my head becomes heavy with fear and dread.
I slash this blood red across you with tears in my eyes and a delirium to submit to.
It's times like these I wish you weren't dead.
Oct 2014 · 480
Write? About what? I dunno.
Pedro Garcia Oct 2014
Boy oh boy, another cold night!
Another cold night under my room's dimly lit light.
Another cold night under a dimly lit light to embark on a poorly planned plight.
Another cold night under a dimly lit light to lose sight of my poorly planned plight.
Another cold night under a dimly lit light to lose sight of my poorly planned plight but perhaps such circumstances are right.
The chances are slight on this chilly autumn night where my poorly planned plight is to sit down and write.
Write about what on this chilly autumn night? Well that's where I lost sight of the poorly planned plight.
Aug 2014 · 9.2k
Summer Haiku
Pedro Garcia Aug 2014
Gentle wind rolling
Sunlight dancing on the green
silent bliss outside
An actual attempt, much better.
Pedro Garcia Aug 2014
The question remains
Of all perplexing notions
who let the dogs out?
I should really figure out how to make an actual haiku, first attempt.
Jul 2014 · 1.7k
Motivation!
Pedro Garcia Jul 2014
What drives a man to achieve his goals? Motivation of course!

The enthusiastic mindset that if you work hard, you'll achieve.
The unhindered perspective that compels you to think about the end goal and ignore the hardships that attempt to impede your progress towards greatness.
The idea that putting your best foot forward will gain the admiration of a metaphorical Hermes who will then grant you his winged sandals to propel you above the rest of your peers and out of your unsatisfactory situation.

What drives a man to succeed in his ventures? Motivation of course!

A burst of energy that says "I can do it if I believe I can." despite limitations on your strength or your intelligence or your character.
An aura that surrounds you and invigorates your humors, enticing your senses as well as giving you a mask that hides your unsure demeanor.
It's a revelation, that motivation, which enlightens the soul and frees the body from the chains that marked the end of it's abilities.

What drives a man to accomplish milestones for himself? Perhaps it manifests itself in something other than motivation.

It could be the desire to find acceptance, to be wanted, to get that simple thumbs up that sends a message that needs not be spoken. "You did well."
Possibly it would be the wish, the simple wish that a man will have done something worth remembering in the brief existence that he has, something he can look back on and think to himself, "I didn't do half-bad on that, did I?"
Teetering on the self-existential reflecting concepts, it could just be that man wishes to find fulfillment by filling his daily activities with anything. And that the greater the activity, the laborious hours put into completion, here man finds solace in putting meaning into his day to day living. Thus we find that goals are merely tick marks, road signs on the long drive from life's start to inevitable death.

This, this is all motivation. Anything that places reins over a man's mind and hits the spur against his brain, in hopes that this will help him move forward and do what he believes is necessary to do.

Motivation is to place one's self in this self-deprecating position as to be a slave to ambition in order to be satisfied with one's life. And to think that motivation is a blessing that leads to self-improvement.

Motivation is truly the mind's greatest illusion.
This was originally gonna be a happy poem, don't know what happened to it.
Jul 2014 · 410
Thunderstorm
Pedro Garcia Jul 2014
The vicious cries of the darkened sky, with lights that blind the untrained eye.
Looming clouds become booming clouds as flashes engulf the midnight dark.
Times like these there is to be, more in the skies than the eye can see.
Past the dark silhouettes and the streaks of blue, you find they describe a piece of you.
The indecisive ground on which you stand, your opinions which clash and change with time.
Lightning where your revelations begin, and not a memory of where your previous thoughts had been.
The storm it moves with a lowly crawl, an inconvenience for those who'd wish it's withdrawal.
But I enjoy the storm for with it comes the idle perspective. Rain and clouds, time to take shelter in your head.
Imagine a place where the weather is nicer, but it's not just the weather that you wish to get away from.
It's those issues that trouble you even when the skies are bright blue, those issues that don't come and go with its hue.
Wish yourself on an island away from your trouble, where there is nary a cloud and the daylight hours double.
Soft sands swallow your sensitive toes, and your eyes land on the ocean's calm glow.
A place where you can sit under the shade of a silent shore cove, and relax in a hammock of the jungle's natural grove.
Pleasures innumerable like the grains of sand on the beach and troubles the same number as the clouds in the sky.
The blues and the greens and the browns and the big orange in the sky. Grey's and Black's don't find themselves welcome in paradise.
Wrapped in a linen of pure white you walk tall knowing that nothing can break you from happiness.
But then a sudden CRASH. You're startled by the sudden sound and open your eyes to an unhappy sight.
You're back in the melancholy room where you gaze out the window to find the storm again.
Upset as you are due to being pulled from paradise, you can't help but be a bit glad.
Odd as it may seem, the storm is what led you to paradise in the first place, and you'll find yourself there again the next time it rains.
So rejoice! Cloudy skies may pervade your life today, but even the darkest of clouds and the heaviest of rains will eventually go away.
Feb 2014 · 533
When I was a boy...
Pedro Garcia Feb 2014
When I was a boy, a young vibrant boy,
I had a stuffed bear who brought me great joy.
Teddy was his name despite youthful creativity abound;
for a young boy like me, no more suitable name could be found.
His overalls blue denim, his button eyes black, and a warm comforting smile he certainly did not lack.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy around, gripping his hand tightly while his body hung limply towards the ground.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy along, his friendship made me feel confident, ambitious, and strong.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy close by, our adventures spent under the sun and the calming blue sky.
During our time together, there was never a moment I had not smiled or laughed.
Truly Teddy was an artist, and entertainment his craft.
Time passed and times changed, but Teddy was still my friend.
However, something grew strange as my age continued to ascend.
And so it became, my loving friend's comfort I could no longer enjoy.
I let go of Teddy's hand, and I was no longer a boy.
Pedro Garcia Feb 2014
Darling, the night is dark yet I can see you so clearly.
I swear it's the starlight in the eyes of the girl I hold so dearly.
It's just so unfair that I can't look away, your gaze has me under your spell.
How do you do it? I'd love to know how you do it so well.

The night has just begun and I've only started to woo, but it seems you've turned the tables round since I can't take my eyes off of you.

It must be some sort of witchcraft since I've never been so quick to fall.
Your voice is that of angels and I can't help but heed the call.
With every whisper my heart flutters and I'm the slave of your whims.
The room has an aroma of roses and the once bright light dims.

The night has halfway through and I'm at a loss of what to do, I'm enthralled by your visages as you can tell since I can't take my eyes off of you.

The time for dance is over, but the morning has yet to arrive.
And I'd like to take you home while we both feel so alive.
Your energy and your charms have taken their effect, I just can't resist.
Even if it take's till morning I promise one way or another you have to be kissed.

The night is almost over and surprised you came out of the blue, you've cursed me with love and now I can't take my eyes off of you.
So I may or may not have put it on the right side to make it stick out a little more, I'm sorry if you've caught on. :(
Feb 2014 · 1.2k
"I love you"
Pedro Garcia Feb 2014
"I love you." I repeated to myself in the dark and dreary room.
"I love you. I love you. I love you." as if it would brighten up the gloom.
"I love you." I shouted to twinkling and abundant stars. "I love you." I yelled to the red planet Mars.
"I love you." I whispered to my little flower ***. However my face may have whispered my state of distraught.
"I love you." I sang to the slow setting breeze. The words came off my lips with such an eloquent ease.
"I love you." I confided to the cold winter night. Through solace and indifference that comforted my plight.
"I love you." I proclaimed to my favorite blue pen, then I looked outside my window and that would be when,
"I love you." I chimed to the evening moon. Her bright light informed me that the time would come soon.
"I love you." I stated to the dimly lit telly, and that's when into the room walked my beautiful wife Ellie.
She glared at me and grabbed her suitcase, my heart pounded as such it would were I in danger.
She swiftly passed me a glance and left, because I could not say "I love you." to a stranger.

— The End —