Poem 17

No meter but with rhymes. 

I don't know what kind of poem to call this and I won't pretend to know.

 It's just a poem I wrote that I thought I'd show.

It seems that everyday that I come in and see you

I feel like I can't speak, looking through your clear eyes.

Even though I can feel coldness when you knew,

With the decision you made, I can only respect and realize.
In this I wish for you to stay forever alive and not in vain, 

For to me, you're more remarkable than what others see, 

Even when you'd think a glimpse is what you may attain, 

You've changed a lot in me, for that, you mean more to me.

Sweet Lies

"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence"

–H.L. Mencken

SWEET LIES always mask the bitter truth. Whether in life or in love, the truth isn’t always as appealing as the lies in which our thoughts comfort ourselves. But lies, as to their nature, do not last long; a tower stacked without cement: it hides its weakness with the façade of height and magnificence. Sooner or later, lies will crumble underneath its own foundation. Why, then, do we drown ourselves with the fleeting lies our thoughts make up? Why, then, do we choose to live in ignorance of these lies? The answer

Youthful Dreams

For Rose, the object of my once youthful dream, 

a person I never tried to know.

Long, yes, yet on this seventh year it seems

My love is dying; Now I've been seeing

That I have been dreaming such foolish dreams

All I see now is how I've been lying.

Its Generosity has blinded me

Never have I worked tirelessly for it.

For on that year, I changed so you could see

That I can be the best, so I may fit