If only you learned to love me through my imperfections,
The affair of our hearts would have been perfected.

I cannot marry a poet,
who will worship the ground of his ink,
getting captivated through each page,
forming supremacy over it,
more than a beautiful part of my heart,
neither sweet wet kisses planted,
on each tiny part of his body

His ink will be jealous of me,
that I'm taking it spot in his heart,
even his deepest secrets,
get recognized by turn of each page,
before reaching these ear drums of mine,
like a tabloid chronicle that missed a deadline

I cannot marry a poet,
who will not allow me,
to touch his pen,
neither give me a green light to drown,
on the authored pages of his journal.

The door to tommorow,
Opens in the shadows of today,
So brush aside the path of sorrow,
And make your way

Changing your appurtenance,
To tackle your tomorrow with less scowl,
As you swing regrets into experience,
And channel through your scope

I the end it was just me and my thoughts,
A painful trap, long after you were gone
Gone from thee eyes of the universe,
as well as from these fascinating midnight dreams of mine
Countless times I closed my eyes,
trying to retrieve our happy times we spent together,
of times I smelled the lillies you once gifted me with,
that maybe I'll be able to smell that sweet aroma,
you always brought in the room

I am dying in the inside,
as each picture of how you used to look like,
is fading away slowly from the eyesight of my mind
In the end it was just me and my thoughts,
shattered dreams and no touching of hands,
as I watch you ride beneath the pampered glass of thine heart

They were perfect partners,
a match made in heaven I could say
They were perfect for each other,
like Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden you could tell
Their love kept on blossoming like a morning sunrise,
the love written within the limit of the sky you could see
As they journey together and disappear into thin air hand in hand,
it was as if their love were part of art that keep luring souls in the art gallery

She adored him more each day,
as she imagined them growing grey hair together,
but he was starting to love her less
The sparkle between his eyes were no more,
but she adored him still,
not knowing that he adores her no more
The affection towards her were gone,
like a rain passing by in a sunny day,
but she was holding on to the vows that he promised to never break
He took a glance at her as he lifted her chin up
and said "Thank you for the wonderful years we spent together"
as if he wanted to compliment her submissive nature,
but to end the reunion that they vowed their life on

She stood there looking so pale,
with so much tears rolling down through those glowing chicks
as her lips trembled to say words she'll never mean,
and her jewel tongue got stuck between the swollen of her lips,
as if it was cut and left lifeless
He took his hands and wipe off her tears,
as she failed to hold it together,
realizing that the comfort of those hands were going forever,
as he continued to say "I'll treasure our moments till thee end"
She looked straight into his eyes,
as if she could hear him say "I'm bluffing"
but that was thee end of their love
The era of her break down
But his heart belonged somewhere else

Poet? I am not thee
I construct sentences,
and give them a rhythmic flow,
like a lyricist composing a song
From meaningless words
to sugarcoated words,
turning into those sweet melodies,
like chords of Sanchez playing love song,
in the hands of a guitarist

They say I am a poet,
but I am just a verse writer,
who never renders but write

Eyes dripping
Tears full of blood,
with half quarter of my heart,
bleeding over love,
which was never suppose to hurt,
but rather to be drunk on it,
and swim in the ocean full of happiness

Its better to love than to never love at all
But what if love can never be enough,
to the extent where my heart is able to accommodate?
Maybe is my calling,
calling to stay alone and nurse my insecurities
as I dine in the pool of my sorrow
witnessing the ocean of my happiness dry