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LEAV, Lang

A love story

Beyond the shores of melancholy,

There was a time I held your hand.

My heart now bears an untold story,

Like a ship at sea, that longs for land.

A great untruth, my lips have borrowed,

A boundless treasure to line my chest;

The wealth of words are in their sorrow

And words are all I can bequest.

We will remain unwritten through history,

No X will mark us on the map;

But in books of prose and poetry,

You loved me once, in a paragraph.

And your love has left me, on this island,

It has filled my cup up to the brink;

Yet I grow thirsty in this silence

There is not a drop for me to drink.

Shrinking in a corner,

pressed into the wall;

do they know I'm present,

am I here at all?

Is there a written rule book,

that tells you how to be—

all the right things to talk about—

that everyone has but me?

Slowly I am withering—

a flowered deprived of sun;

longing to belong to—

somewhere or someone.

I still search

for you in crowds,

in empty fields

and soaring clouds.

In city lights

and passing cars,

on winding roads

and wishing stars.

I wonder where

you could be now,

for years I’ve not said

your name out loud.

And longer since

I called you mine—

time has passed

for you and I.

But I have learnt

to live without,

I do not mind—

I still love you anyhow.

Tell Me

Tell me if you ever cared,

if a single thought

for me was spared.

Tell me when you lie in bed,

do you think of something

I once said.

Tell me if you hurt at all,

when someone says

my name with yours.

It may have been so long ago,

but I would give

the world to know.

When every dream

has turned to dust,

and your highest hopes

no longer soar.

When places you

once yearned to see,

grow further away

on distant shores.

When every night

you close your eyes,

and long inside

for something more.

Remember this

and only this,

if nothing else

you can recall—

There was a life

a girl once led,

where you were loved

the most of all.

The Rose

Have you ever loved a rose,

and watched her slowly bloom;

and as her petals would unfold,

you grew drunk on her perfume.

Have you ever seen her dance,

her leaves all wet with dew;

and quivered with a new romance—

the wind, he loved her too.

Have you ever longed for her,

on nights that go on and on;

for now, her face is all a blur,

like a memory kept too long.

Have you ever loved a rose,

and bled against her thorns;

and swear each night to let her go,

then love her more by dawn