"under the roof"
my beloved,
here we are bounded
by the ties of time
and who would think silly
that it shall be
the one who loosen up us through?
on how it took years
to tighten a knot in between
through strolling down the streets of the saint,
riding a bike alongside cars
until it's night
and is afraid to cross the bridge
screaming out the younger years
it's only me on the back seat
who would weigh on your back
yet, time will tell
to part over the roof
we spent half of our lives
growing old, far from the good days
must have my image there
rusting in brown
and the ink of my signature
all stained
kept on your pocket
strings different from a rubber
are all swinging loose
dearest, it's the late house i am in
and it feels strange
to step onto another you have built.
YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters
PoetryA tear that couldn't drop from the eyes, A sound of a beating heart that couldn't speak. It was the messages that never reached anyone, nor entered someone's mind. 'Tis the letters they rest, in a book of poetry.
