i am sure you are tense
i can feel it
should i say
you have my heart
that is why i know
what you are feeling
i just wish
your heart is with mine
coz i could assume
but never consume
this feelings
this being
we were once in those state
why can't it go back this late
hey mate
can you be my playmate
is this a date
let's call it
a night

xoxo

tears drip from my eyes
while a laugh escapes
from my mouth,
this isn’t sadness,
this isn’t joyousness,
this comes from knowing
that people leave,
life makes you go through changes,
yet my poor heart
keeps on hurting.

Ironic.

What a laugh!
I looked in her eyes
and saw that she was broken.
No one in this world
ever gets enough love.
We bleed our feelings
and silently beg others for help,
but no one ever comes.
Or if they do,
we smile and nod
and bandage our wounds ourselves,
afraid to be vulnerable,
afraid to be human,
afraid to give others the love we so crave.

and by every kiss, every words
i’m just having fun
i love you,
just don’t take it seriously
i’m just having fun
because i’ve been through this
many times
i know it must meet the ends,
we’re just having fun
with the plastic love,
at least that's what we have

Instant regret
A pain in your gut
Throbbing thump in your head
The words I said have caused you pain
I truly tried but couldn't refrain
Now I just lie in my bed
Might as well be a cut
It's funny how we just forget

One Turbot says to the other "do you believe in Cod?"
The other replies " I think we each know a Sole". "I believe one day when the chips are down and we are at our most battered we will each know a Plaice and we are destined to fillet".
They exchanged a glance and swam away.... just for the Halibut.

I hope my Whiting doesn't offend. Remember believers.... believe in Cod and one day you will be Prawn again.

People get killed for killing somebody, but people are trying to teach society that people shouldn't ****** because it is illegal...Ironic!

My secrets are metaphors.
The words are artfully arranged in alliteration
Or cautiously halted in
Enjambment so that they don't reveal themselves.

My secrets are anaphoric.
They are metonymic, swearing secrecy to the pen.
Sometimes they are synecdoches,
Begging, afraid, in rhyme for your attention again.

My secrets are anecdotes.
They write about themselves through personification.
This poem juxtaposes itself;
I've told you all of my secrets of secrecy-how ironic.