I hate myself so much,
For I loved you so much.
Letting the darkness slip,
My love for you never to flip.
You've let me suffer,
Regret, fail and suffer.
You've let me suffer,
Making this tougher.
I shouldn't have loved you,
For I realise it today!
The open door awaits you,
The soul of mine still seeks you.
For you is all I know,
For whose sail home let fate row.
Missing you is the worst feel,
I sincerely await its heal.
Missing cherubic faces,
When my anger traces.
Missing sparkling eyes,
Which melts frozen hearts of ice.
Missing annoying commentary,
Like deprived sun of daisies in dairy.
Missing you is like,
A verse without proper words,
A leaf draining its shades,
A sentence at house of hades,
A nightmare of blankness,
A rainbow of blackness,
A novel with facts,
A stage with no act!
Though I hate being dramatic,
This thought found at my brain's attic,
A mind with no thought,
A heart with no beat!
Though dramatic it is,
This is how it really is!
YOU ARE READING
The inklings of a poetess
PoetryI would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty. Read ma poems and look from my eyes the dreams it conceals. Please don't copy my creation
