and once again
I'm found in a
corner with a
broken pen and
a torn textbook,
trying to wrap
words around
the wounds your
love has left me.
I thought we were
a summer breeze,
gentle and faint,
so I waited for
the soft blows that
will turn the pages
of my unwritten
story, forgetting that
you and me will
always be the missing
side of an untitled
book.
I am a love poet
incapable of
sketching down
what this heart has
felt for you, for your
eyes have showed
me what is beyond
verses, and your
lips have spoken
what poetry can't
hold.
You were more than
lines on paper to me,
so I spent nights
biting my fingers to
stop them from
turning you into another
metaphor.
I whispered lies into
your ears, for my
body can't bear
lying on bed under
the glare of my
dry quil, begging to
be picked up .
I'm sorry for letting
my ink shape you
into a poem again,
But this is the only
way I know how to
hold you without
breaking you
YOU ARE READING
Dried petals
Poetry"and I find myself tucking your smile in the space that lies between every letter .for babe , if I can't keep you by my side ,then I'll lock you in each poem these hands write down ."_Aya Highest rank #43 in poetry on 23/7/2017 .
