~=°•°=~
He was too prince-like
to have noticed me.
He was a princess fairytale
all too familiar.
How couldn't he be
when I've read fairytales like him
a couple of hundred times in a millennia?
But, still, I couldn't shake off the obssession.
Incessantly returning back
to him because he
brings me joy in just
mere glances of his smiling face.
Or his glistening brown eyes,
or his soft tousled hair,
or his cheeky grin,
or his smug statements,
He was a cloud of stars
where the planets worshipped,
circling around him,
so he would be called a galaxy--my galaxy
He becomes all too essential.
All too enthralling,
for my wanderlust eyes
to fathom and fascinate.
He was a thief in the night
with a mask of mischief.
He rode the wind like no one else
and, behold, he stole my treasure.
He stole my heart
even if it was shattered,
even if it was but purple,
evidently beaten to pulp
T'wasn't worth more than
an iota of gold, silver, or diamond
T'wasn't worth more than
my life itself--which is but a pint in the grand scheme
He was enticing!
He was exultant!
He was celestial!
He was everything I needed!
Unfortunately, he was straight.
He was straight and so he will never love me back.
Even if he tries to for my sake,
trying to love me back becomes prosaic and his heart would get exhausted.
He would never find me enough
because I am but a guy.
He would never repay his debt
because he is but straight.
~=°•°=~
YOU ARE READING
Poem Addiction
Poetry"A poet's greatest strength is his words; his greatest weakness is his emotions; his greatest addiction is his paper that is the world he lives in." -Eskay Kitz-
