Before anyone faints or cries or laughs their asses so hard that they die (RIP),
this (one written after many a month!) poem,
partially influenced by another,
which was suggested by my friend,
the hopeless romantic, forever.
[A Poem about Love]
I am undoubtedly the wrong person to talk about love.
To date, I do not know if what I fell into,
or a reminder from above.
to be nice,
to be kind,
or merely to appreciate,
the ones I had left behind.
For those I may have not loved,
all I say is sorry.
You chose wrong, you must agree.
For I am not the one you sought
nor the one you thought I was.
They say it is better,
for those who loved and lost,
than never to have loved at all.
I still cannot answer that, for I may not have loved at all.
Or like most of you out there,
loved, yet could not share.
For many a reason,
well guarded and cautioned,
I opted for a vow of silence
and loved in his absence.
“Love”, rings in one’s tone,
and perhaps has a different ring to its own.
But till it rings,
and the famed angels sing,
what it is.