Scribbled Poetry…


This wasn’t supposed to be this short. But then it conveyed all of my feelings at the moment. Short and crisp.

I open my notepad, scribble a few things,
And I don’t like them so I tear them apart.
There are words I want to speak, there are feelings I want to press,
But this pen, unlike me, doesn’t have its own heart.

I want to talk to someone, someone to hold my hand,
Who just listens and looks me in right the eye.
Someone who puts a hand on my cheek, caresses it gently,
Talks to me about stars that are so far in the sky.

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