One, we were, in a time before.
With a desire for more.
In a lonely boulevard, stretched our paths be.
Like a puzzle, delicately laid, serendipity had materialised though yet, it was to be. . .
In the audience of our counterparts, in a birthday suit of our truths, we were identified to be, one of a kind.
If we were one to begin with.
The myth of developing an emotional bond with a myth was a fact.
In our fictional illusion of what reality is, taking a step back would be moving forward in our tar laid escapade.
The past would be the future and vice versa, easier it could have been without knowledge of your existence. . .
Of your charm, your beauty, nutty personality and. Carrying on... This road would never end. I would not rest.
If not for your departure. The way would be misty with insecurity, ill-thoughts of a tragedy. If you were here with me.
Gloomy things seem from the bright star gaze of your eyes, it seems unreal.
I want to believe it isn't. . .
Yet here we are, back to back and moving forth.
Our paths alike, yet here we are, moving apart.
Number3
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Boulevard drama
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life
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OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Number3
Insomnia's haikuThe still of the night.  |
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Boulevard dramaOne, we were, in a time before. With a desire for more. In a lonely boulevard, stretched our paths be. Like a puzzle, delicately laid, serendipity had materialised though yet, it was to be. . . In the audience of our counterparts, in a birthday suit of our truths, we were identified to be, one of a kind. If we were one to begin with. The myth of developing an emotional bond with a myth was a fact. In our fictional illusion of what reality is, taking a step back would be moving forward in our tar laid escapade. The past would be the future and vice versa, easier it could have been without knowledge of your existence. . . Of your charm, your beauty, nutty personality and. Carrying on... This road would never end. I would not rest. If not for your departure. The way would be misty with insecurity, ill-thoughts of a tragedy. If you were here with me. Gloomy things seem from the bright star gaze of your eyes, it seems unreal. I want to believe it isn't. . . Yet here ... |
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