why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

If it has ended now
And we stop being friends,
Just tell me clearly please;
For love has blinded me,
I will not plainly see
That it has ended here.
I'm such a hopeful man
And will keep dreaming on,
So, say for certain please-
That this sweet friendship died;
There is no going back.
Too late to admit wrong,
(I am the guilty one
The fault was always mine).
Tell me to forget hope-
That the walls between us
Are stone hard, fiery hot,
And they will never fall.
Tell me to reject you,
And to not trouble you
That I should ramble off
And just go away far.
So, say it bluntly please,
If it has happened that
We are no longer friends.