Once again,
let me write you a poetry.
Allow me to paint my feelings
on the canvas
using the pained tip of my pen
like a drunk artist
drowned in the metaphors
of an unrequited love--
unrequited
yet
unquieted-
unquieted
by its desire to be heard,
with the sound
that it makes as it breaks into pieces--
shattered pieces
caused by
your lovely pieces--
pieces that you wrote for her.
So once again,
let me write your name
using my pen
as I hope that one day,
it will suddenly run out of ink
just like these feelings
that I have
for someone who will never write for me.
- Jan Di
YOU ARE READING
In Dreams, We Find Our Rhymes
PoetryWell, I just can't describe my poems better than how this piece of mine describes them. 🌠 "What My Poetry Is Made Of" I am not someone who has rich vocabulary. My phrases, my clauses will always be ordinary, so I just use the simple words that I...
