Poems (Not Really) at 3:00 AM.
There you shake,
Your shoulders as beautiful as they have always been,
Fine as silk and scented from the distant memories;
Quiet in your island of light, in your dreams,
Softly you shed,
The tears from the distant memories.
knives that cut
It gets deeper, it always gets deeper
when the ghost of the past
poses its undeniable existence
which to many, feels alien
but such re-sharpened feelings
are indeed knives
When the rain comes,
I wish you are well sheltered.
I know you’ve come to understand the nature of rain,
And have appreciated this gift from above.
To live in harmony with the presence of rain;
To live fully still should there be rain.
As much as I comprehend, and seeing you still as lovely in it,
There are few things I’d be more eager to find,
than you looking down your soaked shirt.
And I shall, as I vowed,
Shelter you from all the rain.
So if the rain comes,
Wipe your tears off and let’s wait for it to pass,