To think, of the ones who didn’t take us,
make us feel loved, or worse, let us love
gently as a lover should be loved, complimented with soft kisses on their tundra lips
misty like the northern sea in a clear morning, infinite
and held tightly with the cotton wings of a darling white owl, and a glow of happiness
Oh, to ask for the moon when buried down under the ground
I live the day as it comes, as mundane as a book and as dark as the bushes in a forest in a far away land,
the land that never called us, and yet we called home,
we weren’t meant to be anything more than lovers
so i loved
now we are parted and the land is cracked
in too many ways, into many ways
To think, you didn’t give this a chance
to see how my flowers blossom in the spring for you
you left me in autumn, after the hot summer in which we made memories and tales for our future,
which we will never tell
And to leave everything behind now, you say is easy,
but it is not to me
after all, you had my eye and my heart,
you were the muse to my ear and my soul
and I wanted to be all to you, give you more, if there be any
But just like the winter in your heart
I too will grow cold, of you, of everything
there won’t be flowers in the spring
and you won’t see
This one is from me.
ayse poetica 