It was said,
you'll know what it is
because you'll sense it
even without words to describe it
or to make meaning to it
how else to know if
something is true then?
one can say they feel love
without saying how much
of its misery or beauty
say, having to be touched
by someone in million miles
apart without touching one's skin
having to get drunk
to one's essence
that have filled for you
by the wind of fate
hearing every soft little things
by the sound of one's voice
tasting someone's colors
and flourishing flowers
in one's tounge
to be pulled firm in the present
when we are only yet happening
letting me grasp of that reality
I'll be glad to be stuck in
oh, how else to know
that this is real?
when all along
I was genuinely here
YOU ARE READING
You remain dear, inside
Poetrywords are never enough to convey something too soulful. I will forever be a poet to unfulfilled promises, to unrhymed metaphors, to something so beautiful I long. for it so deep and enduring, for her, dear, inside me. for time, it lingers. for...
