06-05-2014, 08:41 AM
Hi all,
this is my first poem, it's an exhale of my bottled up emotions and a much needed channel of expression. Please do give constructive feedback on my newly found means of self-expression.
Was it real?
I can’t stop thinking about you. Was it real?
You are not anymore an image, no longer a tangible memory;
you are a feeling, a longing, a suspicion it never happened.
Possibly a figment of my imagination.
Was it real?
The sweet, oh so sweet, memories I once had
are now replaced by a distant dream, a dream
that is nothing but an illusion of what could be
or of what I hoped it was for that brief time.
I long for your touch, which by now
could as well have been a passing daydream;
so unreal it feels it was.
But I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
I do wonder if you ever think of me. Rather than a pondering,
it is but an endless search for answers that my heart presents to the universe,
a pleading I desperately wish to be real, as real as the feelings I still have for you.
Was it real? Were you real? Or was it all a dream?
I feel hurt, I feel deceived, I feel love, I feel desperation. I feel you.
As I close my eyes I feel the touch of your hands on my body,
your fingers sculpturing the shape of my lips,
you inside of me.
Was it ever real?
The moments we shared bring me warmth; they bring me sadness, then hope, and again despair.
I feel I want answers yet again I want to walk into the sunset and never look back.
I want to think what we had was real, but I’m afraid to know the truth.
You diminish. You live on. You decay. You reappear.
I dream. I cry. I love. I despair.
Was it real?
this is my first poem, it's an exhale of my bottled up emotions and a much needed channel of expression. Please do give constructive feedback on my newly found means of self-expression.
Was it real?
I can’t stop thinking about you. Was it real?
You are not anymore an image, no longer a tangible memory;
you are a feeling, a longing, a suspicion it never happened.
Possibly a figment of my imagination.
Was it real?
The sweet, oh so sweet, memories I once had
are now replaced by a distant dream, a dream
that is nothing but an illusion of what could be
or of what I hoped it was for that brief time.
I long for your touch, which by now
could as well have been a passing daydream;
so unreal it feels it was.
But I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
I do wonder if you ever think of me. Rather than a pondering,
it is but an endless search for answers that my heart presents to the universe,
a pleading I desperately wish to be real, as real as the feelings I still have for you.
Was it real? Were you real? Or was it all a dream?
I feel hurt, I feel deceived, I feel love, I feel desperation. I feel you.
As I close my eyes I feel the touch of your hands on my body,
your fingers sculpturing the shape of my lips,
you inside of me.
Was it ever real?
The moments we shared bring me warmth; they bring me sadness, then hope, and again despair.
I feel I want answers yet again I want to walk into the sunset and never look back.
I want to think what we had was real, but I’m afraid to know the truth.
You diminish. You live on. You decay. You reappear.
I dream. I cry. I love. I despair.
Was it real?