Poetry is meant to be words I've said, that I'd be happy to be remembered for.
And other peoples poetry, are words I've read, that I'm happy to remember.
But I've lost so many, so many of mine I haven't written down.
I've lost so many of the ones I read, but were deleted.
The thing is, nothing would make me happier than remembering yours,
yet they are slowly slipping from my memory.
I can't find most of them anywhere for me to reread,
but I don't want to lose them.
Because you are someone else's poetry now,
but those poems you wrote, perhaps at least they could still be mine.

Where went the days, when words were there?
When we'd talk all day, and I was allowed to care?
Now I can barley think, of words to type.
The one I want to say, I just don't have the right.

Over the hills, the sun starts to rise,
and in my heart, all hope surely dies,
I love you little angel, but you're gone for good,
so I'm moving on, as you said I should.
Her hair isn't perfect. Her lips aren't sweet.
She's not the most beautiful girl, I ever did meet.
But the scars on my aback, from her well maintained nails,
feel like old times, and so my heart sails.
and I wish, that you were the one,
but oh well for now, I'll just have some fun.

Why can't I delete the poetry?
It's not like you'll ever reread it.
Why then do I leave it online?
It can only hurt me more.

I removed all the other evidence,
that I ever existed to you.
That necklace is lost to sea,
and those I love you texts are gone.

But my poems are still on hellopoetry,
and I don't know why that is,
as much as I wish I could remove them,
I really just don't have the strength.

What good is a poet, when there are no words to find?
No words to say, how your beauty's refined.
What good are poems, when I can't say how I feel?
Can't tell you the feelings, that I conceal.

Yet today was amazing, I had so much fun.
On this beautiful day, spent with you in the sun.

I feel in love with her in the dark, the grey, the rain,
but now I've a reason to enjoy sunlight again,
the sun never shined, on our happiest days,
alway her beauty, radiated through haze.

But the days spent with you, here in the sun,
are convincing me perhaps, you are the one,
I can't remember, ever smiling so hard,
as when your beauty in the sunlight, caught me of guard.

You and I both know, that words are my thing,
I'm like a warrior, and they're the weapons I bring.
But why then, can I not explain,
this notion I entertain?
How come I can't say, what you mean to me?
It should be a simple, a few words would make you see,
but there are none in my head, just the thought of you,
but you don't know that, and so I'm feeling blue.
I could've told her, with a single line,
but with a thousand poems, I couldn't make you mine.
Perhaps there is no way, to word the way I feel,
perhaps thats how I'll know, that this is really real.

But even if I had the words, I probably couldn't say.
It's not a like girl a like you, could love me anyway.