The Poem I Wanted To Write


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Dear you,

If they ask me about you;

You’re exactly the poem I wanted to write

Though I know a poem

shouldn’t have been described but loved

 

You’re exactly the word

I’ve been looking for

Though they say I might end up

in a broken pieces of ancient dictionary

 

You’re exactly the rhyme

I’ve been begging for

With a slight hope of happiness

in the most terrifying sad song

 

You’re exactly my kind of sonnet

With Shakespeare taste

To witness the darkest sorrow

of falling in love or being loved

 

If they ask me about you;

You should know that

You’re exactly in the very first

or the very last stanza of my own

since I love you for the very first time

and you surely end up as my last one

 

 

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