A meadow,
with weeds and daisies
and hearts easy to hold.
Sure,
the meadows have gentle breezes
and the eyes have a passing glance.
But the heaven this place exists on,
will never be wished away at a command.
My heart reaches for hers,
careful and considerate.
And although the heart extends back to mine,
the interaction is stopped in time.
Her heart can't hold mine,
a cage wraps around it and keeps it there.
It's not supposed to hold me.
(Even if it wants too.)
"It's not right."
...It's not fair...
Sure,
what I felt probably wasn't love
but,
it wasn't exactly the lack thereof.
Everytime I go back to that meadow,
my heart refuses to leave.
It wants to stay here,
and exist where the dreams lie.
As I close my eyes,
my heart is held,
by a hand I do not know.
With a name,
I have not spoken.
All that matters is that I can feel it,
the warmth
and
the love that I'd wished to be.
I hope to be loved one day,
But for now a dream will do.
-don't take my poems without my permission-
YOU ARE READING
a feeling || poetry book
PoetryPoems about how I feel, whether that be sad, happy, angry, or anything at all. I don't do this for a living, so don't expect much.
