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Pampering myself with the scent of the old ink,
The sound produced by the pen suddenly turns into a melody,
Letters collided and produced words,
Which indulged me as I turn them into metaphors

I started to define the curves of his lips,
How his tears flow down as he begins to bleed,
The way he laugh and make hearts skip a beat,
His anger and sorrow that turns up the heat

As I put the little details of him in each verses,
He began to learn how to use a pen and a paper,
Created a prose which contains lines,
Another being he is starting to define

A lady with long curly hair,
Fiery eyes which can easily tame,
Rosy cheeks and curvy lips,
He started to depict beauty― his poetry which isn't me

may you
never get tired
of loving the core
the universe–
and everything in between

and suddenly
i dont want
to write
anymore
my mouth
seems too tired
to utter
a word
hands
are too numb
to write a prose
mind
is too blank
heart
is no longer beating
too fast
i
just
wanna write
no more

you are my sun
but i know
you are rising
for someone else

we may have
stopped talking
but the memories
are still there
lingering
making me wonder
every night
what if i told you

what if i tried

somewhere down the broken lines
we will meet and know
the answer of all those hows and whys

how my truth is no longer you
and why your love is no longer mine

It is a lie when they told that there's nothing to lose
If someone hadn't loved you back
Never they had realized that heartbreaks happen too
when you lose your chance to make someone fall for you