I presume days like April 17th are beautiful enough to get lost in love on and maybe you'll stare at the pieces of clouds outside long enough to love me back the same way or maybe you'll squeeze my hand on some long walk and kiss my forehead because you missed me too much.
It's bizzare how lovely you make everything seem, yet so devastatingly tragic. Your heart's a beautiful place to get lost in, that's what makes it scarier. To fall in love such that it's dangerously hurtful but equal parts lovely? Probably it'll be too late before I even realize, you make it harder to leave because I don't just love you enough sometimes. This is not me.
But it's virtually enticing enough for me to fall. The beauty of love is this, to keep us so vulnerable that our hopeful eyes keep whispering their name into the starry night and I am still hoping.
I am hoping that maybe one day,
you'll read my directionless poetry,
and my eyes grace in front of yours,
you'll love me a little more that day, that beautiful, yet devastatingly tragic love.
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Small note :) - April 17th is my dear friend __Carrots__'s Birthday and I just wanted to incorporate all my Wattpad Fam's Birthdays into my works just as a small gesture🥺 They've all been so amazing to me in these horrid pandemic times and it's my way of including them into my poems❤️
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