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saryachanPoems
It's 4 a.m. I have spent the night Trying to write A heartfelt phrase of clever verse Each stanza is just worse and worse I fail to create Anything of worth How can I describe How I basically Want to tear out my heart To give to thee? I want to pull out the gory strings And write you a ****** love song. How can I transcribe The look in my eyes As they blink when You're away from me They flutter open and close, as a sign of hope That you might be there the next time. I have tried comparing you to a summer's day But a summer day does nothing for me- I want to compare you to a tempest of force That has swept me into a lovesick fantasy. I have tried composing some poetry That could attempt to configure The colour of your eyes But all I could come up with Were ****** metaphors and signs That simply would not Do. Their presence is not "you". You are you, and you are far away, Doing something with someone else. I write for therapeutic torture, Woefully convinced that should I be able to craft something Reminiscent of this attraction It might be generated right back. I would be rightfully wrong. And yet I continue to write.
0
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
**** this love poem
It's 4 a.m. I have spent the night Trying to write A heartfelt phrase of clever verse Each stanza is just worse and worse I fail to create Anything of worth How can I describe How I basically Want to tear out my heart To give to thee? I want to pull out the gory strings And write you a ****** love song. How can I transcribe The look in my eyes As they blink when You're away from me They flutter open and close, as a sign of hope That you might be there the next time. I have tried comparing you to a summer's day But a summer day does nothing for me- I want to compare you to a tempest of force That has swept me into a lovesick fantasy. I have tried composing some poetry That could attempt to configure The colour of your eyes But all I could come up with Were ****** metaphors and signs That simply would not Do. Their presence is not "you". You are you, and you are far away, Doing something with someone else. I write for therapeutic torture, Woefully convinced that should I be able to craft something Reminiscent of this attraction It might be generated right back. I would be rightfully wrong. And yet I continue to write.
#love#poem#poetry#sadness#angst#writing#unrequited#pun
saryachan
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saryachan
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
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