girlie, you know me wan see you,
waiting outside your house like you're—
a superstar and i'm a superfan, your tickets are sold out so i'd be restless all night in this crowd,
screaming at the top of my lungs, top of my voice, hoping you'd notice me,
but it's all a fantasy, cause i'm no prince charming.
your different shades of beauty,
could be displayed in an art gallery,
for your auction, bids are escalating—
to have you, all men would shell their last penny.
no frame can totally encase,
your magical features all in one space,
it's like trying to fit the endless vast cloud of skies,
into a bottle of frozen ice.
girl, i can only steal glances,
cause i can't afford you, you're precious stones,
girl, i can only peek through windows,
can't walk in, i'm no royalty.
i'm a lowly commoner,
and we are worlds apart,
if you're a comet or a rare meteor streaking through,
i'm just the plain blue, that's the backdrop of the stars twinkling,
wish i could be your star.
composing love letters that i'd never send,
i'm confused if i'm a clown or a poet?
pretty sure it'd make for good comedy, if i sent it out—
to the town for comic relief,
cause in what universe, does a guard and a Queen,
fall in love, heck i read too much make-believe,
in reality, i'd be stripped bare and flogged with a whip.
your different tints of pretty,
could light up the night like a Christmas tree,
the servers crash whenever they're ordering—
for your attention, like the best brewed whiskey.
no glass can successfully keep,
your befuddling taste all in one sip,
it's like trying to fit the endless vast of space in the galaxy—
into a bottle of Hennessey.
girl, i can only steal moments,
i can't own you, you're contraband,
girl, i can only peek through crowds,
can't ride with you, i'm no esteemed persona.
i'm a lowly commoner,
and we are worlds apart,
if you're a comet or a rare meteor streaking through,
i'm just the plain blue, that's the backdrop of the stars twinkling,
wish i could be your star.
and i should probably, stop fantasizing,
but if magic ain't real, then how do you exist?
and i should definitely stop daydreaming,
but if magic ain't real, then how'd you bewitch me?
YOU ARE READING
musings of a jaded poet
Poetrylike the title implies, 'musings of a jaded poet', comes from a jaded, hurt heart but it'd be folly to think this album is all doom and gloom. before the dark, there was light and it's a journey-a tale that needs to be told. the tragedy of how this...
