Poetry - Lovelorn Diaries Vol.1

Internet Baby

Why would I let you go when I haven't seen your set of colours, why would the ties be defined--- I haven't written it down on a folder, Why Do you think I'll uncrush when I haven't seen you face flushed, in shades of fuchsia, cards in straight flush, the feelings burning in lush.

The singer and the mime you'd laugh with your friends to, Never the girl in the sweater who's going to steer you, I'm not calypso voiced debutante in a romuant, not a muse in a forefront, She's Venus scattered in bravest golden hue, You wouldn't date my flesh and blood, but the agnate of my consanguinity--- So my deepest hells to be true to thee, but I wouldn't maim anyone a crime cause its true and free, taste of nothing but impassivity.

I just wanna be your internet baby, the one who calls you crazy, Tranquil of territory deep-state recovery full stop on a layby because I fell and stumbled on your door on the way by- left wanting more---

Eyes on the pedals--- Open arson, A kamikaze into your animadversion--- knowing id never rise above it, chains of habergeons wrapped on a saigon, set upon flames, I'm in the ocean.

As I feel I missed out on what I call my all, but I wouldn't change it for a lifetime since you're been fine and tall.

So pristine and fine, free of time to worry about my collateral falls and overall abstract literary metaphorical Aristotle.

Impure thoughts that leaks when I'm sitting with saints and the highbounds, and my visions and the daydreaming leaves me still on red-eyed on the hardbound superabundant on pleasing you like a plague though I'm so sure my patrons living for somebody, who gives life to they.

They were two ideals, yet not a twin-flame pair of brothers , it's two hearts yet one deep lives in the suburbs , As one gets perceived into my rem haze and patterns, you live in breathe for the one you know who's entwined in physical matter, one that stands a shade, ones who emit heat from its gaze, who fastens ones pulse in the same place, who makes you feel ashamed by the thought of one's framework being a touch away.

You'll find yourself on a screenplay with they mistaking the memories laced in rosebay, I weren't ever okay played my own games--- flashes and sparks blew the place, so warm up the pictures it fades away, his face fell into dreamscapes and pictures of mimes who were laughing at me when I ran without a break, thievery of the reality in may endings even five counts forward a foggy haze.