• pen_and_paper 30w

    Be positive/////B+

    I no longer write
    poems on love
    those dark yellow, yellowishly dark
    pages of a rusted book
    gloomy yet happy
    like witnessing Harry Potter
    for the first time, like
    the odin struggling with surtur
    and then winning it over,
    like wild dogs hunting overpowers
    the pedigree
    like wound healed by itself
    like finding someone new
    and loving em over from the beginning
    like a deep breath after the worst of
    your rock bottom
    like wind piercing through every pore of your body
    like the sound of water sprinkled over
    hot red burning metal
    like an autobiography
    of a dead man
    whom you might touch
    through the pages and the places
    like a love letter
    from the beast to the beauty
    like a new strange species found to balance the eco
    like an endangered plant blooming again
    like the rain after hot humid summer
    like summer after chilled up December

    I don't know what I talk about
    when I talk of you
    it might be the first monsoon
    that shines through your face
    or the grass I saw
    crumbled down your feet
    I forgot,
    everything crumbles
    Probability itself is a function of space and time
    cut this line off me
    cause feeling like it
    fills my bone marrow
    pumps life which I must feel
    like you touching me
    through your eyes
    like me dropping my eyelids
    on the floor
    I no longer write poems on love
    like the yellow pages of my old
    long forgotten novel,
    I decided to finish before I met you.