I haven't posted a poem on the blog for a long time. This is an longer one than usual, which is a part of one I'm planning to include in my third book of poetry.
Writing in the darkness of a room has always been my scenery of choice. The patience of thought, gradually expressed. Peace is the word. I am at peace with myself. Solitude does help you sustain it. That echo or a whisper, now simply a memory engraved in the mind.
We're almost halfway through October already, but that's not always a bad thing if you think about it. Basically means that Christmas and New Year is around the corner, quite frankly. I wanted to put together this post quite early on, because I feel like it's all rushed otherwise. But anything that I do write about…
We tell ourselves what we need to hear the most.
The lonely hour calls and my heart speaks.
Unrequited love can play tricks on your mind.
That's the one thing I regret, losing you.
We can't regret what we wanted in the first place.
Idealistic nostalgia never runs dry.
I have a feeling it's not the end of this story...