reminiscing the so-called "us",
those days we shared were never about to last,
like some aircraft i believed that will never be crushed,
but then, those were all the things we call "past".
'twas Sunday when i lend you
my favorite book for you wanted to read it too,
i felt parties on my tummy
with the thought that you're starting to enter my world merely.
'twas Wednesday when you gave me roses
and told me that me being nowhere in your life is a crisis,
you spoke like a poet
and sang a song with me as your duet.
weeks have passed and i wouldn't hide the fact
that you already have a great impact
in my life, in my stories, and in my poem
that you exactly became my home.
oh you, Mr. Perfectly Fine,
how can you fit yourself in my poems like you're some sort of rhyme?
would you mind hanging out with me and take some wine,
i'll just narrate how our poems connect and how i lost my words now that i can't call you "mine".
YOU ARE READING
Poems As Her Therapy
PoetryWhen you're depressed, it is greatly advised to take therapies with a psychologist and so she tried but even psychologist can't take her wounds into peace so she just grabbed her pen under her old bed and stroke words just like how she used to and t...
