• blue_hue05 5w


    Even my words dance around in joy,
    when I write about you.

    My pen cry its ink out,
    when I write a sad poetry.

    My fingers refuse to lift up,
    when they write your name.

    My pages can feel the pain,
    when my tears drop on them.

    You're so beautiful,
    much more than Narcissus,
    That even lifeless things can feel you.