Chanty

…………………………………………………………………..

I wrote a ballad
about how this cloudy sky of mine
became a clear one
after you stand on my way.

With all my might,
I pushed myself to the limit.
Gave it all, received nothing.
Done it all, glorified nothing
but my selfish self who only thinks
it’s only you that can save me.

Now, I think its time,
to give myself a warm performance
of the ballad that was inspired
with all the lights telling me
that I’ll find love in this city.
Probably tweaked it a little
for you, if you’re deaf enough,
to know that I never found one.

Eyes filled not with tears
but with regrets of your
transformation from a magazine cover to
a newspaper.
Words filled your mouth,
you forgot my own lips.
Thoughts occupied you
I don’t cross it anymore.
Cold warms your skin,
making my hugs not enough.

Sure, finding as similar as you will be easy,
but time called me to be stoned
and be wary ,
of tomorrow:
I’ll be singing the ballad
over and over again
with notes partially dissociating on my atmosphere,
with you disappearing from life
you once tried to save.