Poems

Words I’d like to call art.

Forevermore

you left

then came back as promising as ever

your back underneath the streaks of light we’ve never found a name for

the encounter of you will always be something i cannot digest

let alone the moment you left

then return into my arms avoiding all harms

we both did our bests

and proved it works like a charm

you’re back and all thats said and done are forevermore

no longer leaving anyone bereft

in feeling all we felt was waves have meet our shore

God, you’re as promising as ever

I don’t like calling my art poems though much might say so, I never think that my silly little writings are ever good enough to be called “art” I always thought that, that would make actual poets felt invalidated. But if art is whatever the artist thinks is, then I’d like to think that this is art.

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