I dated a poet once
who thought my eyes
were brighter than the sun.
I was his muse,
his life revolved around me.
He gave me a poem once.
He was nervous
the note was moist
in perspiration.
The brightness in my eyes
made him see I was the one.
But oh,
little did he know
the fire burning
in my eyes
was not for him
but for something more.
I was his sun
and he dared not to
stray from his orbit.
I thanked him
and walked away
because what I wanted
he could not offer.
I dated a poet once,
who does not write anymore.
I took his fire with me,
forevermore.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
I dated a poet once
who thought my eyes
were brighter than the sun.
I was his muse,
his life revolved around me.
He gave me a poem once.
He was nervous
the note was moist
in perspiration.
The brightness in my eyes
made him see I was the one.
But oh,
little did he know
the fire burning
in my eyes
was not for him
but for something more.
I was his sun
and he dared not to
stray from his orbit.
I thanked him
and walked away
because what I wanted
he could not offer.
I dated a poet once,
who does not write anymore.
I took his fire with me,
forevermore.
