Pumping its blood to lonely soul
Isn’t it strange?
That I moved on from you,
But yet still find you beautiful,
Your hair, smile and elegant eyes?
How you dress and how you remain so passionate.
The days when I was in love with you,
Were filled with hopelessness,
A warm hopelessness if that makes sense,
For now all my poems about you are written in past tense.
Maybe I can never move on,
But my heart is now comfortable,
In the fact of beating alone,
Pumping its blood to a lonely soul.
I used to think of you every single day,
And fall more in love,
Now I still do,
But knowing it’ll never come true.
—kavi
