Unloved
If half-said words aren’t poetry,
If a half-naked woman isn’t enticing,
If a half-lived life wasn’t worth the shot,
I must have been drinking,
I must have been drinking a lot!
That half-naked woman has my jacket… my heart!
I must find her!
She gave me an address, I can surely find her spot
“Why do I drink a lot?”
50 years and a thousand cunt,
and couldn’t love, even one.
I used to like my lonely chair two days past,
Now it feels cold and an outcast.
2 days and now long she is gone,
There’s a note, a beer, and dreams she has shown,
How do I sleep when my body wants her shade?
How do I write when she’s the story I wanna undeclared?
I hope she is waiting for me,
In a bar, on a stool with a bottle of whisky!
But before I go I wanna know,
Dear lord I love her and I vow.
But, does she love me?
Does her heart beat for me?
I doubt her love.
Since the way, she took my last kiss.
She respects me too much,
Oh! Dear lord, is she afraid of being caught?
I told the bartender,
About my woman, my Juliet, to whom I gave my jacket and,
heart too in the car,
whose eyes are like the two brightest stars,
and her body; the best pottery of the potter.
That she could kill her father and brother,
And do any such illegal thing,
in the name of her love.
Hearing this, the bartender smashed on my face.
Romeo’s Juliet would never do such a thing, for a 50-year-old face.
“Wouldn’t lord be the lord?”, he said
If I change his name.
If she is not the one,
Where is my Juliet?
If this is not what love is,
I can’t love more than this!
Yet, if she was not for me,
My half-lived life wasn’t worth the shot!
But if she is my Juliet,
I will be her Romeo.
In the bar, on the stool, with a bottle of whisky,
I sat there and drank whisky.
Sip by sip,
With every drop of silver tear.
Oh! Dear lord, if you find her,
Could you not send her here?!
