If you can answer,
Please do.
Because, I can’t
Even if I wanted
To.
Love is blind
Tightly Bound,
By such mysterious
Feelings
That for, the inexplicable,
Many times
The right words,
Don’t exist
Or can’t be ever found.
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English is not Spanish,
For Spanish is my loverBut English sets me free.
There is an internal rhythm,
Pleasing to the ear,But spiritually, more fit.There is an invisible rhythm,Born to PoetryThat heightens language’s prism,And keeps it in memory.There is an internal sweetness,Sole to Poetry,That tenderly speaks to lovers,So they know what Love can be.
What do we solve
Or with anthingFor that matter,Our History,A MysteryOf unpronounceableSecrets!And nebulous matter.
It’s hard to write
A lot said,In small space,With very little ink,But that should openLinks that make youThink!Poets are stingyWith theirFace to face,They want to makeSureNo thoughts goTo waste,They want to reachQuickly, the heartOf all mattersAnd sum up the totalBefore inspirationJust fizzles,Or shatters.
We all look for approval,
Friends that blow hot or cold,Or never come around.Make due with yourself,Do what’s right and bounce,That’s what really counts.
How much Love
Nobody knowsBut Love is somethingWe should always give,It costs us nothingBut it’s such a gift!