I counted his footsteps to my dismay
As they needlessly walked away from mine
Pipe dreams and poetry tasted cliché
Asphyxiated souls, imperfect by design
My crown adorned with silver-coated lies;
All accidentally shown on display.
My thorns were entangled under his vines;
The sour bite would still persist once decayed.
His discarded cigarettes were the only evidence of a goodbye,
I valued his happiness with dishonest lungs.
We were a drunken chaos destroying the sorrows of midnight,
Its syrup sweetens the more damaged it becomes.
The rose bottles choked the abandoned souvenirs;
I laughed at the wide-eyed, crestfallen summers.
She was a lush teal garden, a brilliant bundle of his,
Only a shoulder; I was, and it injured my colors.
My fault was breathing by the bones,
The words did not ripen ‘til the earliest of May.
The white picket fence I could never own,
It took minutes to harbor but it was years too late.
I never would've thought my poems would get noticed like that.
I am so thankful! I was always doubtful when i write poetry. I always thought my poems
were not good enough, like it was such a waste reading them...
Somehow, I feel so happy and grateful. I hope i could reach out to more people and inspire them.
Again, thank you, Daniel :)