How He Became A Poet
It is when he first met her,
When he cannot dare to stare,
When the rhythm of his heart raised,
When subconscious smiles were drawn in his face.
It is when he didn't listen to his teacher,
When he prayed that their chairs would go closer,
When he tried to speak but he didn't,
When he's not brave enough to do it.
It is when he took her number informally,
When they texted for nights and days consecutively,
When he stayed up all night,
When he sent her "Good night. Sleep tight"
It is when he caught a fever,
When he felt the touch of her care,
When they laughed together,
When he didn't understand "It'll be over"
It is when he spoke words,
When he placed his fingers on the guitar and formed chords,
When he confessed his catastrophic feelings,
When he was ignored and never plucked a string,
It is when he felt unimportant,
When he walked in the pavement like an ignorant,
When he was utterly sad,
When he was partially mad.
It is when he got drunk for the first time,
When he haven't found the right words to rhyme,
When he placed a stick in his mouth and lighted it,
When he exhaled in grief to get on with it.
It is when he learned how to lie,
When he wanted those living scars to die,
When she called her for the first time,
When he named it "A Perfect Time"
It is when he took a pen and paper,
When he reminisced the times he spent with her,
When he lighted the lamps and candles,
When he wrote words and gave them titles.