love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
The Autumn Inside Us
At times, autumn doesn’t just fall on trees, It slowly descends within, unseen. We hide our withering hopes, our fading hearts, And show the world a spring that never departs. The autumn inside, none ever knows, As we silently break, where no one goes. Like leaves, we crumble, dissolve in the air, Fading into depths we alone bear. This quiet decay, so deeply concealed, Becomes a part of us, wholly sealed. As if this autumn, so cold, so still, Had merged with our being, bending our will.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
I Could Write My Question On A Page
I could write my question on a page, But how my heart will bear the stage? The sorrow it feels, so deep and vast, Will it hold steady, or break at last? Something feels strange, a shift, a change, The present feels so far, so estranged. No longer the same, this moment of mine, A shadow of what was once divine. He won’t look back, not even once, His rise so great, my fall immense. Why should he see, why should he care, When his triumphs soar beyond compare? Silence feels like the better way, For my worth won’t matter, come what may. He’ll never see a spark in me, No brilliance, no rarity. How can I offer something great, When none of my deeds hold such weight? No act of mine stands out so tall, No feat of mine feels unique at all. I admit, though softly so, The truth I know but won’t let show. He’s no longer mine, I cannot deny, Even my heart sighs, "Why even try?" A thought returns, again and again, Why would he care, why would he remain? Why would he hold a memory dear, Of a love that’s faded year by year?
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
Before You!
What more could I say, my pain before you? My eyes now fill with tears before you. I could die from the grief of losing you, But I wish my last breath to be before you. I brought an album with a picture so dear, Of our childhood days, now here before you. The heart’s wishes stay silent on my lips, Words come so rarely before you. You, like the ocean, won’t open your arms, While I turn into waves before you. Why do you blush so sweetly in your sleep? Have I come to your dreams before you?
By Qurat ul Ain2 years ago in Poets
