Curtains Closed, Pages Turned
The Words I Speak
I was too scared to feel something for someone again
Out of my mind terrified that I'd fall by myself
Only to sight them pushing me off the cliff
The horrific scene to witness
The pieces of me that I can't retrieve
Tearful memories that I'm doomed to keep
Sighs the heart that stands in defeat
The boundless spirit cries and weeps
They sing "oh to be loved by a poet"
I find myself, during the last quarter of the night
Noting down what is my own and only mine
How they devour being admired
Praise and applause, asking for more
Begging to be the center, the subject, the topic, the core
Whilst I stand to be the title, the headline, the star, the show
These are my words you're reading, my words defining your presence
And as much as a poet dreams to be the poem
The everlasting admiration of such a precise art
Connecting words you'd never think to piece
Only a talent handmade and tailored to each is their own craft
So when a poet gifts you what it is woven within their soul
Trust that I have wholeheartedly, unbelievably, absolutely fallen for you