Cherry Blossom Poems

I thought that loneliness was a safe place to hide away and isolate myself from strangers with stories still untold, but I met you.
When I met you, your eyes were a densely packed thick book waiting to be read and understood.
Some people called me a madman, others called me stupid, while many didn't even bat an eye, I pursued to read you with all my heart and understand your side of the story.
As time goes by, I started to understand you. Little by little, you showed me the things that ruined you, you told me about your lines that felt like out of place.
...

He wrote about the people around him.
Friends that would call on him on their sad days, yet leave him on his.
Crushes that would bring his city down to crumble, leaving him in a state of ruin.
The person he once loved, that he thought loved him back, but he spent too long waiting for her to utter the words he wanted to hear but it never came.
...

He was already insane even without the long intervals of horrible sanity.
He did things that he would soon later regret and things he didn't do and would also regret.
In his troubling times, there was no one to accompany him, even in small dosages, yet he found loneliness as the safest place and stayed there for a prolonged period of time.
People noticed his strange behavior, they told him to talk and said that they would listen, but when every time his mouth opened to speak of his teething troubles they would walk away slowly and leave him.
...

He would always ask himself over and over again, 'What did I do to deserve this? '
He thought he would find the answer in a stiff drink, a box of nicotine, or a lifeless screen that consumed most of his hours, leaving his mind in disarray and hindering proper function.
He suspected that he deserved this for being dumb, naive, and too comfortable as his life slowly crumbled before him.
During daylight, he would wear a smile and exude lively energy visible to others.
...

I sat here waiting for your call that would never arrive.
I shouldn't have looked at you, I should've let the moon and stars take away my eyes from you so that I wouldn't fall for you.
I shouldn't have loved you so intensely that I felt like dying every night just to give you space.
I realized that our lack of communication hasn't affected you, but it has taken a great toll on me.
...

The day he left her remained vivid in his mind as if the words he never thought he would utter were etched into their conversation.
She asked him if he would die for her, and he responded with unwavering confidence, declaring, 'Even if granted eternal life, I would refuse it, for a life without you is akin to death itself.'
He wasn't accustomed to heavy drinking, but now, everything had changed. Every night, he found solace in a bar, always seated alone at a table meant for two.
The bar provided an escape for his mind and a release for his troubled heart. Amidst the intoxication, he allowed himself to ponder the haunting question: 'Was I the best she ever had? '
...

In the realm of wild nights and neon lights, a story unfolds, filled with daring delights.
'Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time, ' they say, an anthem of mischief, where inhibitions sway.
A toast to the adventures that lie ahead, with hearts on fire and no regrets to dread.
The night beckons with its seductive allure, promising thrills where inhibitions endure.
...

Being alone in your own house in haunting.
You sit there alone in front of the television reminiscing the person that sat down with you before that's nowhere to found.
You'd sleep alone in a two sized person bed; the emptiness you feel when moving around makes you remember that you used to sleep with somebody that's not there anymore.
You'd eat alone in a table for two, drinking hot coffee yet still feeling cold, eating a hearty meal but your hearts in pieces, you remembered the person that ate together with you, but they aren't here anymore.
...

The call of night to fool around and forget my problems is sublime.
The moonlight shining on me is relaxing.
My eyes get caught between the two-faced sides of the neon light.
Midnight takes me far away from the bumbling noise of the city, with bloodshot eyes I listen to the lullaby for grown-ups.
...

I wonder how it feels for the poem to be written and thought well off by the poet.
I wonder how the painting feels to be admired and mesmerized after being drawn by the painter.
I wonder how the smartest always gets recognized and not the smart.
I wonder how the comforted feel after being comforted by the comforting.
...