Since the time I was introduced to them, words have always been my favourite friends to live with. They have been there when my soul literally had nobody. They have made me feel HOME when I had started to believe I don't belong here. And here is the most beautiful form of my truest friend: Poetry.
As long as I LIVE, no matter in what form, I will live with YOU. ❤️
Her love, my love, is poetry
Frozen soul roaming in a summer night
Her warm winter melts you in a sight
She will be simple, if you just see
Let yourself view her, let her be free
You'll find the solace you used to crave
You'll find a mess, eyes; wet and brave
She'll be your happy pen, write your sad lines
For you'll be insane, write your mad lines
She will grow with you in symmetry
Her love, my love, is poetry
Can you see ART? Yes, you'll feel her
Have you been HURT? Yes, you'll heal her
She will make you cry with all smiles
Will make you crawl from distance miles
Will be with you, still you'll miss
Just the presence, absolute bliss
So full of life yet so wounded
So beautiful, so complicated
Even alive inside the cemetery
Her love, my love, is poetry