are
      beautiful,
but I guess
you've
            heard
        that
before
*I just hope you've also heard that
               I think you're the one I've been looking for.

Ever heard the chorus dawn does bring
when birds of the wild start to sing
and even the trees sway and try to sing along
yet nothing ever matches the beauty of their song?
That’s just how the voices in my head intone
When missing you starts to sting
And I stare at my phone waiting for the ringtone
But you’ve never called, maybe to you it was merely a fling
That’s how my heart does race when I reminisce
The handshake which led to the unforgettable kiss
And my soul wishes it also had a few beats to skip
Since you were never mine to keep
Ever seen the beautiful blue touch stolen from the skies
when the fickle waves of Ocean launch their fountain rise
while the audacious endeavour to ride high on her pinnacle
the path to their success being the perilous obstacle?
That’s what I saw when I gazed in the whites of your eyes
the ambience of an abstract paradise lay in them like a miracle
so am still trying to assure myself that there was some truth in your lies
still doing my utmost to reach you through every tentacle…
It’s what I envision when I try to force myself to sleep
that you are a page in the book of my love life that will never flip
from the moment I set eyes on you, lost my grip
and fell hard for you; I wasn’t supposed to but I fell in too deep
struggling to find myself in the ashen mire… you burnt me more than fire
yet haven’t even quenched my desire.

I didn't stop loving you, I just started loving me...

I started writing to give recollection to my name.
I mastered the pages so I could hopefully forget yours.
But that failed,
so remember me as disappointment.
For the words on this page emanate the
same failure as the organic,
breathing matter holding them-
living them-
believing in them that I was as gifted as
the others before me who wrote sonnets
dedicated to forest green eyes.

Probably your green eyes.

****, forget forgetting your name.
It was carved into the tree that
conceived my paper heart.
And, by chance, did you use the same
knife to engrave it that
you did to tear me to shreds?

Classic of you to expect a rhyme.
The admiration bleeding from my poetry
cannot be captured in "love" and "dove,"
so to hell with you.
Yet, thanks to you,
came the spark of a nameless girl
with words that incinerate.

I have advice; although, I'm not sure how
it will taste:
remember me as a legacy.