Cornered.

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654510051/

Ah, was I too open?
seems my future has found out.

I didn’t draw a line in my heart,
I danced when it went erratic;
chased it’s attraction, few visions
into where I never thought to step foot in,
then I was labelled greedy, psycho even
when truly I was bullied by this heart?

Well Crafted Heartbreak.

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654009711/

Oh, I’m an eclipse?
this, is this heartache crying?

You tell me,
who’s heart I trampled;
when mine’s beat
had never withstood
harshness of change
within a day.

I, I loved you…
I loved how it seemed
it was your well crafted piece
only saying my name,
the call in it went beyond
just my name being called.

Take this, take it all.
This, this is what I would’ve wasted
in form of tears.
Now, they’re only a tug
and haven’t been embroidered
in indecisions, corruption;
both our individuality.

But before I can claim,
any brightness attached to my first tasting;
I’m not an eclipse.
To us, if we were to recollect
our memories similarly,
I would be a stagnant time;
bound by weakness
and overthrown by change.

Related to us…

I, I loved you.
I loved your hurried steps
like bundled years that let me to you.
You didn’t notice but,
I, I always counted
yet every time our toes met;
it felt we’d already lived out our time.
Tragic desires
That fulfilled their passion.

You tell me,
When I became an eclipse…

Intercepted

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Could it be knowingly abandoned,
if I never thought it would come true?

Twenties.

I’m swallowed by heartbreak,
darkness of your departure.

Entranced.

https://za.pinterest.com/pin/300404237654184103/

In love?

It must be a waltz but I’ve never waltzed
or soft tapping of feet on solid cloud
but a steady feeling, observing when to storm or harvest
the kind one can never regret.

You know a craving of chocolate
while having an aching tooth,
Or a run on a rainy day,
There’s reason, not spiteful but one
which could prevent a headache
Yet the heart will only stomp it’s feet.

I feel, I might have been in love
each time a pen translated my thoughts;
Yes, my hand was writing
but description that lets me meet
my thoughts, how it feels as though
they’re conversing with me
whilst silly but to my soul
it’s a taste of said waltz or glide by amongst the stars.

You know; the roof that’s been unrestricted.
In love…