My poems

A Sincerity Undelivered

With a light gait and golden eyes,

You came to my haven.

At first, I didn't realise,

That you stole for a reason.

You had stolen the very blossoms

I had taken months to grow,

Each painstaking moment

Worth the reward in the end.

Irate, I waited,

Hidden in the shadows,

With mask over hideous face,

Ready to expose you.

But alas, luck was not mine that night,

Nor the nights to come,

For I fell asleep,

Unfortunately for me.

You approached silently,

And plucked another bouquet more.

You came, many nights after,

Yet I was dead to the world.

Hence, one night, I must confess,

I had had enough.

I forced myself to stay awake,

While pretending to be asleep.

I heard your dress rustle in the wind,

And felt your soft footfalls against the ground.

I caught visage of your loveliness

Picking another bunch, perhaps three.

Enraged, I followed,

And soon did I see,

A sight that made my heart

Feel grief-stricken and crestfallen.

I, who was selfish,

Was not fair to you,

For you were selling the florets

Out of poverty.

With sorrow clear in my eyes,

I trudged back

To my lonely castle,

Pondering on how to aid you.

And then, I decided

That I would create a flower so exquisite

That none could resist its vision

Nor its sweet scent.

And there I stayed for days on end,

Perfecting the Smeraldo,

A rarity, a true beauty,

In the world of flowers.

Soon, it was ready,

Every bit as perfect as I had wanted it to be.

Its petals shone in the moonlight,

As I awaited your arrival.

But you never came.

Feverish, I made up my mind

To wear my mask

And come looking for you.

But I...never found you.

Soon after, I heard that you,

My rose in a garden of thorns,

Was gone, forever.

Heartbroken, I lay in my castle,

Weeping over my greatest loss.

Like a bird, you had disappeared from my grasp forever,

Never to return.

To this day, I still wonder;

Had I had the courage to confess my love to you,

To express my sincerity,

Would you still be here?

Would this story have taken a different turn,

Perhaps for the better?

Possibly, you might have gotten scared and run away,

But to have the bravery to approach you is easier said than done.

Day after day, I am racked with guilt,

As I see the Smeraldo.

Its innocent blue hues hiding a story,

Of the truth that could not be told.

And all the flower seems to tell me

Is that I should have loved myself.

But, alas and alack,

It is too late.

A/N

If you didn't understand what message the poem gives, it's to love yourself. This poem's based on the Italian myth of the Smeraldo.

And yes, it's related to BTS (listen to The Truth Untold, you'll cry)