Dear poetry,
You are still here aren't you
Why haven't you left me?
When I only ever wrote you gloomy,
Only so I feel better expressing myself to anyone who reads it
And discards it in their short term memory, left abandoned to be forgotten,
Why haven't you left me?
You're only there to display my grieves to those
Who look at you one second and look at someone else the other
Why haven't you left me?
When I rant on you, play with words on your belly to make an impact and point to the world
That my world isn't a happy place, that I am the biggest fault in my world
And you are the support which obscures all my faults
As they only see the calligraphy of words and mosaics I make out of you. They all seek beauty and heart touching sentences out of you and pluck them out like with their silly fingers and adore them. Cause why does anyone want to know about gloom? There is plenty in their world I bet.
While you over there materialise yourself for me and only me, open yourself to any other person who passes by and close down when they are done plucking out your beauty.
Why oh why, after all this are you with me?
Maybe because I have tied you to me
Maybe because I don't want you to leave.