i’m certain that i will have trouble with forgetting thee.
broken hearts ponder on memories, and the seven seas
dance to their blues below my naked feet.
a full moon over germany; a sight destined to be seen.
brainwash my mental; i’ll undergo a spring clean,
despite it being summer; so close to the season
of sudden blues overcoming me for no reason.
finally gift you that book that should make you mine.
is it futile to be trying? perhaps, but who am i to say for sure?
give me everything you have; it does not have to be pure.
all i ask of you is to be raw; no masks.
naked, we will dance to our love, with flasks
in our hands, fusing our souls together.
is there a balloon out there somewhere that is redder?
i’ll keep on writing poetry till the world realises
that i am not just penning some words; it’s much more.
every stanza is a weapon; i’m getting ready for war.
Luka.