Dear Reader,

I have read your poems, secretly
I know how you get mad,
I know how you become a different woman when you get angry.
I know how you love to ransack his world,
to reach out for something impossible, invisible.
I realized just recently that you love him
better than the virtual man I introduced to you.

We write differently,
i will forever follow my style,
follow what my HEART always says.
When I tell about my poems in their most silent secrets
you just ignore and abandon their WORLD.

Do you really love spikes than plain?
Oh, now I now...
You've been very ironic these days,
you love death than Life, right?
Because if you don't what's the need
to explore the immortal even if you the reality
feeding you?

I have been reading your poems lately,
oh almost a year honestly.
Crumpled papers, torn pages beneath the beddings,
now I know how you really adore Death and It's immortality,
the way the waves hit the shore
but still the sweetest when they recoil

  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Reddit
  • RSS

0 endeavored to criticize: