Poet

Her gaze sets a fire in my heart, and she doesn't even know I'm burning.

By August, even the sky is tired of its own blue, and I am tired of pretending my eyes don’t search for you.

I burn into my poems, and my poems burn into others.

The old wounds beneath my skin burn whenever I get too close to something that warms my heart.

Please don’t fill my heart with promises in your words, just to vanish when love turns fragile and wild.

Every ‘you’ in my words is meant only for you.

I wish I had control over what I wanted to feel.

I've learnt that love is the only violence that feels serene.

Come to me when your world feels unbearable— I’ll listen to the silence you’ve buried inside your heart.

What you've found, someone once lost in tears. The one who makes you smile, once made someone's world disappear. The person you dream with tonight, was once someone's whole world.

Every ‘I’m fine’ you say feels like a story begging to be held gently.

You're a missing heartbeat that never comes back.

He blessed someone else with what I had begged for: to be with you.

You once asked me if souls remember. They do. In every second we borrowed, I learned to live again. If someday the stars feel familiar, it’s because I never left.

I’ve broken over you so often, it almost feels like home.

Maybe this is all you’ll ever be to me — a poem I could never finish, no matter how much I tried.

Everything passed, as all things do — except my love for you.