I beg forgiveness, but sorry doesn't begin to cover it all.
Poetry is what a poet uses to ease his fall.
I've let my mind deceive that a poet lies in me,
When deep inside I hurt, for being a poet wannabe.
If one loves music, dare he not sing it,
Cause' love is for feeling and music is for hearing.
Poets who know of love's tragedies share,
Though faithless don't love, of love they're aware.
I'm sorry for faltering in your eyes,
But only by doing wrong do I realize
That I was stupid for being jealous,
That all you ever did was just for us.
I promised not to change, and no change shall you see
In four days, weeks, years or when you shall meet me.
I've let my mind dictate this madness I have wrote
When what my mind wanted is no more than a quote:
"It is a cliche, but so be it, I LOVE YOU, there, I've said it, I love you, and you have no clue how much..."


I never knew how much.My ego led me to believe that....God, so much to say, but my promise to myself leaves me no other way. Uh..words so scrambled in my mind, I wish to hold my hands in thine, through every year that shall pass, I will return myself in the past, in the day we first met, on the lounge chair in which we stood, next to the sea, where we fell in love. I'll sit a whole day each year in memory land just to see you for five minutes, that's it. I promise not to speak a word that day, and if you decide to meet me, there I should be, waiting for four years, ten, who knows...

My ego led me to believe that I loved you the most, but now I know that no one loved another the way you loved me..Thank you