In a world where everyone calls themselves a writer was she;
And in a world where everyone falls in love was he.
It was pretty evident that they had to meet, maybe not that day, but someday;
They did, and that’s how it started; the story of a guy in black and a girl in white who painted the canvas gray.
Canvas; is life any different from the canvas itself?
A perfect picture and it is sold easily but one pint of colour out-of-place and it is dumped on the shelf.
She used to write but nothing that unique, you wouldn’t call her a writer,
They started talking, he started motivating her, made her know her own worth;
But little did they know, on the journey of making her a writer, he made her his lover,
She fell for him, wasn’t that easy for him at that point of time, but became a good person who was once just a filth.
Love wasn’t his thing, didn’t want to keep her in false hopes that he would ever love her back,
But this lover had now become a fighter, wasn’t going to give up on him yet;
Their short-term happiness ended and they parted ways never to fall in love back again,
She finally realized how much she loved him and what he meant to her when she was back in the darkness;
She finally realized how much she loved him but stood far away and took upon herself all the pain,
Their love story was now over, nothing but a mere carcass.
She set out to become what he wanted her to be, a better writer,
Stuff she wrote made people shed tears but not knowing the tears they had for a moment was what her life was now made of;
What people read was what she wanted them to read, writings for the world, but for her? Just a cipher;
“Till death do us part” she was now dead, with not much written on her grave but just “Dead. – With Love”. ❤
I miss you hunnie... 😞 I feel uncontrollably lonely right now. It's been a year. My love never changed and will never change. I love you.
Ps: i love If I could fly by 1D. Reminds me of him a lot.. #words#poetrycommunity#poetry#poem#poem
What will it take to inspire me again?
For me to pick up this pen and pour out my thoughts?
You're no longer here, and this mind is tired of writing about you. But yet, I can't stop painting your images in the minds of my readers. Because that's where it all started, didn't it?
Writing about you, your beauty, your soul, your eyes and everything about you that left me mesmerised. This writer was born by your touch. So how do I function now, when that touch no longer exists. When there are thousands of thoughts in this mind, but this heart only pulls me towards you. Do I write about the seas and the rain and everything that this world is used to reading about? Or do I still drag this pen and scatter my thoughts on a paper which would in the end come together to form your portrait. I don't know where we go from here. If we look at the future with hope that someone else will come along and make this mind wander in another direction, or do we keep on looking back everytime I want to pen down a few words. This dilemma is not going away anytime soon. Because you haven't been gone for long. And there are still many untouched memories that are locked inside this soul. And tonight, I shall unwrap them, one by one. Maybe that's what it'll take for me to get inspired again..
Some more pain,
some more memories
and some more you.
Yesterday's book reading was a whole lotta fun. Thanks @twangafrica, @abuja @suenoabuja and @kwatrionline for putting this together. Big shout out to @deejaykayphotography the genius behind the camera.
Y'all are made of the same stuff as miracles.