a sky made of perfect diamonds
i cut my eyes trying to dream of being high
-so above in momentary bliss, that i forgot i
was actually afraid of heights
perhaps hovering over the bottom lost in my past;
knowing not all things have a time to last
lost in the past, yet, not stranded
i landed on the runaway of the lovers above me
chasing after that familiar phantom of love, to keep
me company

a lot of the times it’s an unattained aspiration
a cup of tea to spill the drink, that leaves a sweet
taste of one last kiss- listening, with the deaf ear
sacrificing everything, but in the end the tea party
of love, would never really invite this coffee head