Ode: (n.) a poem meant to be sung
Hands touch, hearts jump, all of my senses start to go numb. Love strikes, arrows fly, how did he make me become so shy.
Eyes lock, bodies embrace, remembering the details along his face. Laughs shared, secrets kept, how did he hurt me at night when I wept.
The voice of an angel, rang through my mind. The love of a lifetime, I would never again find.
All of it gone in the beat of a wing. A song of sweet mourning my heart bird did sing.
He made me feel like nothing. He made me feeling as though I wasn’t enough. I knew he was missing something. He made me grow up so young, I was forced to be tough.
Her eyes were brighter, her skin more clean. Her lips were his weakness, didn’t need to be mean.
Everything that I had was taken away. My best friend was gone, and had nothing to say.
I started to feel like nothing. I started to feel as though I wasn’t enough. I knew I was missing something. I had to grow up so young, I was forced to be tough.
Slowly I realized, he would never truly know. How much pain and sorrow he would never reap to sow.
But soon I would realize, the one thing he wouldn’t keep, was my heart or a lesson, not to shadow the sheep.
Follow those who step through the path of the good, and never hurt those, who have helped you get through the wood.
A peck on the cheek, a bushel of flowers, creates an illusion, just for the hour.
The respect of one’s feelings, a sweet guiding hand, generations and eons their love can withstand.