Those beautiful eyes were lost in that book
with a perfect smile, and the most beautiful look.

We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

my eyes are still stained red
from every moment you weren't
there for me when I was lost
in my own head

I'm sad,
and no, I don't want to talk it out
because there's nothing you can do about it.
It's a sad sad,
the kind that permeates,
stays and repeats things in my mind
until it confiscates every vestige of peace.
I'm sad,
and no, I'd rather not discuss it,
because there's nothing you can do to fix it.

you took time to write down
your poetry
and within your poems
you seeded
a thousand generations