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I was never a saint in their eyes,
all they saw was bad poetry
Play dates, beyond the gates
You and I were fate, Fated
to the last goodbye, hello,
I can’t say why, but there’s
a glistening in your eye

Sainted marines beyond the trenches
Dark on the handle and green in the eyes,
green on the benches, Slump on the rock,
Docking in the still of time, Mirages passing
thorough illusions,
It’s you and I,
this is me,
I’m the other on your side
This is you,
almost blue
like the red on my roses
The blood on my paths,
I’m reaching out towards the sky
just to see you,

The dreams of my past, passing by
Byes, steering fate, no wheels under the gate
Opening like a sliding door risen off heaven,
My bad poetry is me seeing you

Even when you’re not there,
Your you, my love is due
Straining my eyelids
because I’m thinking of you

via Bad Poetry – Through The Window – Medium