View of the City
An apartment with top view of the city,
It only means one thing;
What you see isn't always pretty,
Despite what people say.
Because people talk
And then they act
On behalf of what they say.
As the city gleams underneath your floor,
You watch fascinated, trying to learn
To decipher their language,
Because everyone speaks their own tounge,
Sometimes you see heart-melting gestures,
Other times you see dramatic fights,
Different things taken to different measures,
But in the end it doesn't matter;
Because you're still up in the air.
Staring at the next today
As the sun sets, marking the beginning of tomorrow,
The beginning of a new era
Of happiness
And sorrow.
Send the old you back to me
This feels pretty naturally,
like walking in an empty alley,
surrounded by blossom trees.
This feels pretty augmented,
like it's designated,
by an unknown well-meaning
pure soul.
Love actually
grows on trees
where money do not.
Money actually
come when least expected
like love never does.
I'm playing with these lines,
like I'm playing with my hair.
While you're slowly breathing out,
as I'm breathing in air
packed with emotion,
as I breathe in all the blue.
I'm thinking over everything I learned, but never knew,
until today.
As I'm breathing in light, bubbly energy.
As you're overthrown by the shadows,
which bred the blue.
I hope you do
know I won't withstand this.
So please, reach for my stretching hand.
Take it.
This might be your last chance.
YOU ARE READING
Deep Thoughts in The City
PoetryThoughts that have just occured to me. Abstract, soulful, dramatic; my poems are about pretty much everything. I try to post daily :)
