I write romance in Morse codes by the taps.
This morning. Above your apartment.I write romance when I wake up,
among the worst decisions in my life.I write romance at a volume everyone can hear.
Everyone but whom I'm writing to.I write romance in my heart
when I'm chased off someone's lawn.
Oh, You knew her too,
it was the girl you pointed out as a joke.I write romance
on the by-product of the finest hours.
Nobody wants to talk love in their best times.
They don't need it, or they've got it.
Some even framed it in a ring.I write when I can't find anything else to express.
And at the end of those undefined emotions,
you would find it.
Not in the garter,
but in an clean, cleanest corner of the world.I write romance too you know.
Once or twice.
Just not for you.They don't write for the ones you love,
And sure as hell not for the audiences.
No one,
Has ever written romances for someone else.They wrote it for themselves,
what they fell in love with.
YOU ARE READING
It's three in the morning.
PoésieA small collection of poems which I write when I could not sleep. Or (mostly) of my personal experiences.