18 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Love is not a mystery; it’s every beautiful thing that I ever wanted it to be.
Love is the colour of you, love is beautiful with all its flaws and complexities.
I’ve been enslaved by my own emotions and you were always there to liberate me and provide devotion.
Love is when I still write about you in hopes that one day you’ll read all these words and hopefully find your way back to me.
Love looks like her in the evening after a long day when all she wants is a warm bath and peaceful sleep.
Could I ever be blessed with the chance of having my heart beating inside her chest again?
I still want to read all the love letters her lips and hands are yet to write so effortlessly on my skin.
I’ve cried myself to sleep on days when the world was dancing to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Love has always taught me that I cannot continue loving you from a distance.
Home is where the heart is and I never for a second wanted you to leave.
You still have my heart beating in rhythms that are foreign to my existence.
Is it better spending all this time apart while admiring each other from a distance?
Love is praying every single night to God and hoping that He sends you back into these loving arms.
Love looks like her in the morning when she wakes up looking all beautiful and carefree – you’d swear she had eight hours of sleep.
I’ve been enslaved by my own emotions and with love I have conquered everything that the world said I would not.
Love is hoping that you find happiness and love is also having you sharing that happiness with me.
Love is not a mystery; it’s every beautiful thing that I ever wanted it to be.

Things that nobody talks about:
The desperation of loving someone who doesn't love you
How the sun feels warmer when you've spent a year being cold
The feeling of weightlessness after crying yourself to sleep
When he stares long and hard at you and smiles softly, making your eyes feel shy even when you are not
How people who used to exist in your orbit still take chunks off of your surface, even when you've taken so many hits you hardly exist.

Things that nobody talks about:
Even when you've moved on, even when you've found someone who loves you more, even when you've discovered better things, your skin remembers things best forgotten.

I want you
To grab
Fistfulls
and
Fistfulls
Of me
In your
Strong hands
To
Explore
To
Dive
Deep
Inside
Of
Me
Like a
Mountain Spring
That
Will
Never
Stop
Gushing
An endless
Supply
You and I
Are
The
Same

I would say that I miss you
But I don't even know
Who you are
All I know
Is who you pretended to be

So I guess I just miss
The fantasy
You made for me

The you that I knew
Wouldn't do this to me
The you that I knew

The you
That I

Knew

And

It's not that I don't care
It's that I can't care
Cause the you
That I knew
Is no longer there