“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.” ―Zelda Fitzgerald
It's been a long time since I feel this way,
I'm trying to write you beautifully more than I can imagine.
Those beautiful but sad eyes,
You're exactly the poem I wanted to write.
Like you are surrounded by bright lights and different hues,
And when closely looked at,
You're more than the colors of the whole spectrum...
The more I delve into your eyes,
The more I wonder on your beauty, your strength, your callousness, and your warmth.
Your voice momentarily played back in my head again,
Maybe I wouldn't get enough,
Even if it is ringing ten times over.
The stars, the sun, and even the moon collide,
To form this instantaneous crash of specks inside...
Looking at you feels like looking at sunrise,
The dust, the morning dew, and the cool breeze merged into one.
Like I'm facing the crimson blaze of fire,
Captivating. Radiating. Fiery.
There's so much passion in totality...
I rethink the times I felt like you're there,
The times that I felt like you understand, like I matter.
Have you ever thought that maybe you are important as you think you are to me?
Perhaps I am remembering you in the kindest, sincerest, and in the most heartfelt possible way.
It felt so surreal more than vividly real...
This beating of my heart never felt this rushed,
Like it was, and is still going fast paced all around the corner.
I couldn't get a catch of what it is supposed to be.
All I know is this ray of hope that maybe we will find each other.
Maybe later or maybe tomorrow,
Or maybe the days after that or maybe the years to come,
I don't know exactly when but I know it would be perfect...
Courage, dear heart.
No need to fear.
No need to hold back.
And maybe, just maybe, this is right―maybe, just maybe, I could feel again...