It's like the songs of birds behind the greenest leaves and strongest branches
In the face of the pleasant orange sunrise, which is a breeze, I can't miss an inch.
Your virtual presence is just that much freshness into my being.
Indeed, trees don't die from living long.
But from the spot its roots are.
I have clearly been in the wrong spot.
And every spot seems wrong if it has no you.

It's like a love song dedicated to a broken heart
Which its rhythms go beat to beat with that of the shattered heart.
Your voice is just that much warmth to my soul through my ears.
I can just imagine waking up to it, coming back from work to it.
Darling, I can't even imagine you shouting.
But surely when you do, you are the most beautiful sounding angry bird.
If I had such a voice, I'd demand a cheque for every word I whisper.
Because your vocals remain a blessing to one's ears.

It's like my art teacher's everyday words…
"Opposite colours create a new one".
Or perhaps my biology teacher who said
"A hybrid is the special one in the family,
Mom black, Dad white.
And the product grey."
That is how I every day envision how our sandcastle love would turn out.
The left foot needs the right one to dance to the rhythm, does it not, my dear adored?

It's like innocent snow white eyes of a newborn baby.
One which has never witnessed any brutality of this harsh world.
Your inner being is just that much authentic compared to the others.
Where was I when the world was keeping away from me such a wise young lad?
I oath upon my words when I say
That the angels were too lazy to create your brains
And gave you ones of an old wise man who was taught by experience in all angles.
Little did the heavens know that such a reincarnation would be a gift to me.

I plan to frame your picture and place it on the wall of my heart.
I plan to build more castles in my world of fantasy, my king.
And my heart plans to keep the door open
Even though it knows you would not come in.
I hope you plan to remain the same.
Whoever the lady is, that is meant for you,
saw the most generous shooting star to wish upon.

It's my burning feet that wrote this poem.
The feet that got bruised
From dancing to the song that you play for me.
The song that is so unrhythimic
And makes my dancing so asynchronic.
Truly, your song is hurting me.

I try to dance to your tune my dear love.
But you and I no longer seem to be hand in glove.
I try to perform with a smile.
But I cannot blend into your musical style.
It's obvious that your song is hurting me.

It takes two to tango.
But on this dance floor we are three.
My ears are too sensitive to you forté.
Please have more adagio and less crescendo.
Because your song is hurting me.

I plead that you play a natural note.
One that will match my heart beat.
I need a softer and more gentle tone.
One that will be easy for my feet to please.
For I cannot stand your song that hurts me.

Please remind me to forget about us.
About the memories we shared
and the fact that we cared.

Remind me to forget about you.
The memorable nights...
And the nasty fights.

I know that winter is colder without you.
But I would rather be
than to freeze deep inside during summer because of you.

So my dear darling,
Before  you could leave,
Before you could give me back this ragged heart of mine...
Promise me that you won't forget to remind me to forget.
@R.Charlie