You don't ever see me tip toe in front of your door.
Quietly. Softly. I pour words onto paper.
I'm a creative coward.
Acting only in the cloak of the night.
I wonder if one day, you'll recognise my handwriting?
The letters tilt and flow like the blood inside my heart.
I want my veins to tie me to you like the red string of fated lovers.
But your left pinkie has already been given to someone else.
Winter nights flutter by like the ashes of envelopes you burned.
Delusional. Psychotic. To you, I'm a stalker.
To me, I'm merely helplessly love struck.
I'm only a creative coward.
3 comments:
Hello.
Visiting from NaPoWriMo.
Oh the woes of unrequited love. Scary...the thought of a a love-struck, psychotic stalker! Very nicely expressed. Thanks for sharing. Good luck with the rest of the challenge!
Day 12/13: Love, Charity And Poverty
Lovely poem. Stopping by from the challenge.
Good poem. Almost creepy. I'm trying to visit all the A-Z Challenge Blogs this month.
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