Again. It’s 2 am, on my high sleeved table, alone I seat, gulping down on my glass. When i tried to refill, my bottle….
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Just a prisoner of my own thoughts
They hold me captive like closed bars
Secluded, alone, living on mars
Maybe in another life you and I will be born, on the right time in the right place, when the stars perfectly align, just for us
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I wish people were poetry, so they would know, I too speak and cry,
and how much I love the touch of words….
I stared out of the window for hours, eagerly waiting for a revelation, so, I could fill the blank pages of the book, with my vibrant words, I watched the clouds laden with mist and memories, pour kindly over the sleeping city
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