I Write

I’m not a painter.

I’m not a photographer.

I don’t read that much.

I haven’t finished my stories.

I’m not the fairest of them all,

But I work with what I have.

I’m not the sharpest of them all,

But I’ve fixed little things that helped a lot.

I’ve got my mom,

The prettiest.

The softer

And the loveliest

Of them all.

I’ve got my dad,

The hardest worker,

The smartest

And the strongest

Of them all.

I’ve got my bro’,

The little bro,

The one I love,

The only one I have.

I’m might not be that terrific,

But I try my best.

I’m not an artist,

But I try to write,

That’s my way,

I write.

This might not be a great poem

But I write.

I tell you what I feel,

I tell you what I think,

I tell you what I dream,

Hoping you like my writings

To come again

To read my blog.

And keep coming back

For more.

Feelings

I’m alone.

My bed fits me big now,

‘Cos it was bought thinking of two.

I’m in pain.

My body aches.

My muscles are tired.

I lost my love.

I still miss him from time to time.

Sometime I need him,

Sometimes I don’t.

Here I’m

Facing the world again,

By my own.

I met a new guy,

Seems promising.

His heart is broken too.

I miss him all day every day.

I miss him at night too.

Life’s never easy;

Two broken hearts

Trying to find

Some comfort

On each other.

That’s crazy!

I’d like to say once again:

“I love you!”

‘Cos when I,

I mean it,

Can’t wait

To fall in love

For the second time.

I just can’t wait!