'S' is for Sorrow, 'S' is for Sadness,

today and tomorrow, driving me into madness.

'S' is for the Sweet Sound of your voice,

for the Seduction that gives me no choice.

'S' is for the Smiles you flash without thinking,

as I feel my heart inevitably Sinking.

The fresh Start I thought I could have

if I Stayed away, but I wasn't so brave.

'S' is for the Song my heartbeat sings,

so close, but not mine, and that Stings.

The Simmering feelings that just won't fade,

the truth behind my everyday facade.

'S' is for Silence, that cuts me deep,

alone, without you, and I can't sleep.

'S' is for Sunlight incarnate,

bound by a red String of fate;

a hunger only you can Sate,

my weakness, which I hate;

my Sanity - for that's too late,

this love has become innate.

You have me reduced to dust again;

signed my death sentence with an invisible pen.

Why were you there? I wasn't prepared

to pretend I'm cool and that I never cared.


Surprise attack: you called my name,

from behind my back, suddenly you came.

Your lips are moving, but my mind is one-track,

I was getting over you, why are you back?

But you have no clue - do you, my dear? -

Just what you do to me whenever you're near.

I maintain a facade of smalltalk mundane,

smile to you brightly to stifle the pain.

You're mildly bored, looking over your shoulder,

Polite yet detached, like ice, but colder.

An ice sickle stabbing into my heart,

cruelly careless, as I fall apart.

Then she calls you over - you have to go -

there are more people to which to say hello.

Who is she? I dare not ask,

Barely maintaining a carefree mask.

I have no right; like a homeless vagabond,

I bid you goodnight, as you go beyond

my sight, trailing a red-stringed bond.

I know now why you don't drink alcohol -

can't stand the competition at all:

You are a shot of spirits distilled,

the highest percentage, ethanol filled.


I may have had a brandy shot,

on an empty stomach, that's a lot.

I promised myself, never again,

but I saw you, unexpected, there and then.

I'm weak, I'm sorry, never good enough,

the truth, it hurts, it's course and rough.


And the taste of your indifference burns,

more than the brandy; my heart never learns.

I hate this, and I hate myself most of all,

I want to move on, not gravel and crawl.

To sleep, to forget, to finally rest,

not to think about what could have been best.

Verses find me in my sleep,

memories that go too deep.

Running from thoughts, I keep busy,

running from myself, until I feel dizzy;

Workaholic - almost free,

avoiding places where you'll be.

Because you've made it pretty clear,

kind and polite, but not always here.

Sooner or later, I'll move on,

I'll live, this pain will be gone.

You're perfect for me, but I'm not perfect for you -

time to face reality, I know that much is true;

Even though it hurts, like a chemical burn on bare skin:

10-molar hydrogen peroxide in comparison seems like a pin.

I promised I'd stop talking about you - I'm driving my friends insane;

so now I'm left alone, silent in my pain.

You make me want to be better, to reach for the stars,

igniting dreams I gave up on, healing old scars.

Nobody else is enough, whatever they do,

why can't I love another, instead of you?

I have no shortage of suitors - why can't I quit

this useless addiction, destroying me bit by bit?

I could be happy, if only I weren't stuck

on what I can't have, what's beyond my luck.

I need to travel, to get away far,

to another galaxy, find a new star.

Unfinished - my thread of thought breaks -

I'll forget about you - whatever it takes.

Metal music, vintage sound

feel the beat pulse all around;

Louder! Drown out my heartbeats,

drown out this fire that burns and overheats.

Play louder than my heart, perhaps I'll forget,

that it tears me apart, this unresolved bet.

Schrödinger's cat of blissful ignorance,

a stalemate, a draw, merciful ambivalence.

We could be a pair, like tequila and salt,

I'll just keep dreaming, 'til I wake with a jolt.

Smoke in my lungs, my hair in my face,

I'm lulled into numbness, in the music's embrace.

Sensory overload of lights and sound,

In a club's chaos, clarity I found:

Things will work out, in whatever way,

and even if they don't, I'll be okay.

Whatever happens, I know I can handle,

for I am a forest fire, not just a candle.

I obsessed over soap bubbles when I was a child:

how they dance in the wind, beautiful and wild;

so free, so perfect, but disappearing too fast,

and you're no different - too quickly our time has passed.

Like sand through my fingers, you're slipping away

I can't think of an excuse to make you stay

other than the reasons I dare not tell,

so I let you go, silent in my hell.


Even when you're not around, you're always in my head,

Overthinking everything: how you acted, what you said;

Looking for a hint, grasping at straws,

ignoring the doubt, evading its claws.

I'm happier not knowing, I'm too afraid

to break this glass castle my poems have made.

And so, like sand through an hourglass,

our time together continues to pass.

Never enough time, never enough sand,

I keep staring at my now empty hand.

From tall steeples church bells' ring,

Cupid's arrow has a painful sting.

And still of you I long to sing,

my heart glows blue, a crystal bling.

To stay away, I could not endure,

for this affliction I know no cure.


But writing soothes and numbs the ache,

red-hot coals, thrown in a lake.

Still, no lake is quite so cold

to quench these embers, truth be told.


When you walk in, I feel like I need an inhaler

- instant asthma - your eyes make stars seem paler.

Every time I make you laugh,

half of my soul meets the other half.

I said I'd quit, that these poems are done,

but I relapse, sentimentality has won.

In the morning again I'll say:

"There is no us, there is no way",

But evening melancholy crystallizes into rhyme,

the urge to write keeps winning every time.

Like an alcoholic taking a shot every other day,

I can't get over you if I can't get away.

And I don't want to, no matter what they say,

this fatal addiction - I wouldn't have it any other way.

Even if I get on my own nerves during day,

the nights are ours, as sleepless I lay.

Up until 3 am, thinking of the perfect metaphor,

for the call of my muse I cannot ignore.

So, call me silly, call me a fool,

I'm a romantic, under love's rule.

Like a foreign language, I've learnt to read your face,

the changing expressions, synced with conversation's pace.

I can tell when there's something else on your mind,

or when there's a right word you're trying to find.

The way you raise your eyebrows at an interesting story,

or burst into laughter - my heart beats away to glory.

The way your face lights up, when you're making a joke,

and that lingering smile, even after you spoke.


Your speech dynamic, I know the melody,

the rhythm, the places where pauses will be.

Like a living book, I study each phrase,

a fascinating read, to get lost in your gaze.


I can't find a flaw, not a single misspelling,

no irregular verbs, just a story for telling.

And what a plot, a writing style that captivates me so,

A page-turner, every paragraph and row.


I speak many languages - learning them is fun -

but the language of you is my my favourite one.

My smiles keep getting lost on their way to you,

ending up everywhere except where they're meant to;

You're a Northern star, unreachable to ships at sea,

but an indicator of direction, of where they should be.


Like petals of cherry blossom the wind blows away,

they're too fragile and light, to be able to stay.

I envy the breeze that caresses your face,

softly, like the gentle touch of fine lace.


And my smiles wander, disoriented still,

sensing the space between us, that they try to fill;

a bridge of smiles, held together by hope,

a love letter in a transparent envelope.


So I keep waiting, like a bud awaits the spring,

hopeless yet hoping, a bell on a string -

a silent melody, safely stored away,

waiting for Dawn, for the light of day.