My mind’s heart is an ocean of words.
Full of them, some that mean nothing,
others that mean too much.
There are words that resonate like threnodies.
Their rhymes tear off strings of pearls
down those cheeks during nights that never cease,
where sheets becomes vessels of melancholia
and she writes, writes and writes
with no voice of her own but of those who
echoed sadness in her heart.
The words resound the voice of a beautiful melancholy.
If only we could elope…
We could be words, to be written on paper,
Carved on royal walls, ingrained in great minds.
We’d live a thousand pages and beyond
I’d bookmark the same page everyday
to read you over and over again.
I’d recite you like a lover’s faithful kiss.
But our love is emerged in ironies!
Sometimes you wreck me,
You mess up my mind
You replay long forgotten memories
that I try to stomp upon with my feet
And sometimes, off my paper,
I scrub you to bits of insignificant dust.
Forgive me for days when I erase you
and rewrite you over,
As light as a feather as you seem on paper,
You are as sharp to hearts when spoken.
Rhymes and couplets are fit for poetry,
Not for us!
We’re fine to be a living oxymoron.
Using words to talk of words!