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fragmentsofheartsPoems
I fell in love with a dreamer, whom thoughts are only about his future his captivating dreams whom hands are only for painting the sky and feet for chasing the sun Sometimes I scream inside my head as I stare at his ambitious eyes If only you could understand me Please notice that sometimes I'm so lonely jailed inside your tiny sickening heart Please notice that sometimes I need a hand to hold a laugh to hear a breath to feel a long night conversation while we lay under the starry sky Please notice that I don't need the most expensive things in the world, you see, I only need someone who would dance with me under the pouring rain Please notice that the best treasure is not the one that is hidden under the tall waves It's the one that's beating under your ribs It's the one that comes from your crooked teeth It's the one that is kept in our photo albums, where everything's natural and imperfect and actually, beautiful and though you think you're doing this, chasing the sun and painting the sky for me please stop for awhile let's lay down here with me on the ground let the breeze kisses your tired eyes and heal your scars don't you see? you don't need to win the world for me, for us we don't need it
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Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
Dear the Busy Dreamer (We Don't Need It)
I fell in love with a dreamer, whom thoughts are only about his future his captivating dreams whom hands are only for painting the sky and feet for chasing the sun Sometimes I scream inside my head as I stare at his ambitious eyes If only you could understand me Please notice that sometimes I'm so lonely jailed inside your tiny sickening heart Please notice that sometimes I need a hand to hold a laugh to hear a breath to feel a long night conversation while we lay under the starry sky Please notice that I don't need the most expensive things in the world, you see, I only need someone who would dance with me under the pouring rain Please notice that the best treasure is not the one that is hidden under the tall waves It's the one that's beating under your ribs It's the one that comes from your crooked teeth It's the one that is kept in our photo albums, where everything's natural and imperfect and actually, beautiful and though you think you're doing this, chasing the sun and painting the sky for me please stop for awhile let's lay down here with me on the ground let the breeze kisses your tired eyes and heal your scars don't you see? you don't need to win the world for me, for us we don't need it
This poem isn't poetic
fragmentsofhearts
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fragmentsofhearts
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
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