I think I'm starting
to fall for you—
that's what you said when
you knew that I was too.
You were my first and
I'm aware that I am not,
yet I took hold of those
words you said were true.
Those cliché promises
become new to me when
it's your mouth was the one
telling me so enchantingly,
but that night my heart spoke
and told me;
"Don't be fooled by the echoes
of his songs but rather listen
to the warn of my drums..."
Yet I muted its call
and listened to your melody,
clawed by your hugs when the
night breathe its coldest air,
warmed by your voice when
I'm sad and charmed by your
concerns of a lover's heart.
It was a month filled with
happy thoughts and countless
talks, but the warn of drums that
my heart once made was actually
a prophecy I am not prepared for.
Under the moonlight woe,
I stood shivering and constantly
seeking for the warmth of your
arms, but as the midnight stars
began to hide from me,
your silence will be the only
memory I'd hear once the breaking
of dawn closes the scene of
a beautiful crime and I was
the willing victim where you are
meant to be the culprit.
YOU ARE READING
Blued Lines
PoetryTo those whose heart has been ripped apart, you're not alone in the boat. If you think that poets write wonderful lines and echoing endings, then you got it wrong because we also get broken and as you read each poem, the sadder and painful it become...
