I don't know what it is about this time of month, no... I'm not talking about my menstruation (shivers). My best pieces of poetry are written on the 15th 16th and 17th of every month. I call it my psychological peak. I don't know what it is about the middle of the month that makes my writing so good. But this morning I started writing great lines and couldn't stop. Anyways, here's what I did today, I'll post more tomorrow.
your motivations lately
have been speaking to me
about the way you are inside
the nasty traits you try to hide
your selfishness your lack of sense
your lack of self
what am I going to do with this
this beating in my chest
there is no rest for the lonely
there is no rest for the loving
only the loved.
this isn't a job we lovers choose
we don't pick the innocent way out
we don't choose to be gentle, to be kind
it's the way we were designed
i'm a lover, not a fighter
so it's only natural that when i see you
you evoke an emotion in me
that so often slips below the radar
it can stay there
like a dormant flower indifferent to when it shall bloom
when the time is right i would suspect.
but until then you'll never catch me
loving you.
you'll never quite put a finger on what it is you feel
I'll make you question what's real
what's not, and what is meant to be.
but let's not use cliches
I've never really been one for those
just know that I chose
your own happiness
over mine.
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