She never touched summer as cold as this
Her room is the dark side of the bright day
This soul is still frozen, never fly away
Tough and heartless eyes that could easily break
And then stepping out waging war to the sun
All the walls she’s built had melted its strength
That warmth seemed to laugh on her pale skin
Cause for an old-fashioned sense, she’s too out of season
Then she met him playing with the breeze of the sea
A pen for a tale of Poseidon’s Prince emerging from the blue
Wondering if those captivating smile had enchanted mermaids
And those dark eyes tell the depth of aquatic beauty
His long brown hair falling so soft mocking the waves
A cool guy on a gentleman’s heart
Those tiny sands are sugar on her feet
But she’s no swimmer fearing endlessness
But then he’s disgustingly friendly to her
Gave him her trust and enjoyed the splash
Sharing old stories, laughing the vintage of it
And then she got his heart. Yes, shouldn’t be that way
For she never wanted anyone to fall for her
Cause she’s selfish, sarcastic and a ruthless girl
And then she had to leave telling him how sweet her summer is
And he smiled kindly for her sad goodbye
But the waited for her in painful whole year
And she returned, changed and still heartless
She ruthlessly grabbed his awful hope out of him
Leaving him hopeful or not is a crime, he’s still the victim
After how she ended the story, he refused to paint the dot
But the girl is such an evil watching him miserably
For she thought it’s not how he adored him that counts
It’s what she’d put on the horizon and he’s just some crossroads
Few more years and she got everything she wanted
Sweet and bitter past are always something to turn her back
Knowing she’d check all the list, still felt something missing
Drove back on the old road, some dust and picturesque scenes
Nothing had changed, it’s only people’s heart
And she’d met him again, still wearing bright smiles
Like a once in a lifetime she’d finally returned it,too
And surprisingly obliged to return his wife’s smiles too.
YOU ARE READING
An Ink for Words
PoetryIt's a collection of the words and lines that aren't resting in my head and probably from that muscular muscle in my chest, too.