They talked like they knew each other in ages.
They parted like they never got a glimpse of each others sorrows.
She liked how he expresses his thoughts: bold and wild.
He fancied her little weird gestures: creeping into his bloodstream.
She longed for him.
He lust after her.
But they can never be together.
Like how the sea can never kiss the deep blue sky,
Like how the sun can never pour raindrops and cry,
Like how the world can never stop spinning,
Like how time can never stop fleeting,
They can never be together. Not in their wildest dreams. Not in this lifetime. Never. Ever.
Because what they had was love in a half-opened box.
He killed me when he said “I love you” …
I died when I opened my eyes.
Never thought dreaming could be this harsh,
Leaving me longing, hoping, wishing…
For more romanticisms, less idealisms.
More glees , less frets.
More heartbeats, less heartstrings.
More laughters, less tears.
More of this pinky fantasy,…
Less of this blurry reality.
He’s a living genius,
I’m a walking disaster.
He’s the brightest star in a nightshade of grey,
I’m the ray of sunshine in a windowpane.
He’s the bulky tree in the forest,
I’m the moss in a nourished foliage.
He’s the lamp post in a crowded place,
I’m the cricket in an unnoticed space.
He’s an artist in a real stage,
I’m a crippled model in a rampage.
He’s the frequently asked book,
I’m that pocketbook seldom borrowed.
He’s the waves kissing the shore,
I’m the shore asking for more.
He’s a dauntless poet,
I’m a factionless poetess.
My Ed Sheeran…
In my own little Disneyland.