PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

calling it love (yet involving cultural variances)

it's as if they know—

 
how to lift their wings
to fly

only to be able to reach
that glorious blue sky

it's when city dreamers
really, really
could dream high

yet trying to go on their
own particular ways—
not even finding relief, sigh!
 
 
would you still hold me
until the golden dawn?

tell me what year are we now, again?
we're here, olden.. but then
 
somehow  
 
 
we still have  
fallen apart, as you joked
again..and..again

 
—that you bleed—
(unrequited love?)

 
that's how we
pass the blame to reality
 
 
but really, it could just be
an untranslatable word

for perfect love

unconsciously—

 
misunderstanding

mere affinity—