I cannot compose brilliant poems, sonnets, or verses,

and I cannot speak to you in Latin or Greek;

I cannot move you with any language made up by man.

Love is the only only language I could touch you with

If you only knew how much I could love you.

If you knew I love you;

If I were brave enough to tell you at all.

my love,
when the lights go out,
i know you get lonely
after midnight.
when your heart spins
round and round,
here comes the revelation,
here comes the kiss
of the one
you've always wanted.
they're all yours now,
but the magic is gone
and the spell is broken.
my love,
i hope you know
that you're still
my favourite person.
when the lights go out,
when your heart
hits the ground
and you fall backwards,
here comes the revelation,
here comes the kiss
of the one
you've always wanted.
they're all yours now,
but the spark is gone
and the spell is broken.
my love,
i know you're tired,
so am i.
when the lights go out,
do you still get lonely
after midnight?

You were always loving me "despite"
I needed you to love me "because"

The light turns red.

I look over at you,
Eyes pleading for a kiss.
You give in
And the world seems to stop,
As two lovers escape
For a moment of bliss.

The light turns green.
The moment is gone.

I still want you
even if we don't talk anymore

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

i don't think i believe in love anymore
it's just a transaction of brief attraction
it's what the poets write of
what the poets dream of
what hides behind every locked door
they find themselves standing in front of

but dreams aren't real
and thoughts are deceiving
love is a fleeting negotiation

but here we are
still wondering why all the great love stories end in tragedy