This Restless Heart

This poor heart seeks solace at times,

If only they wouldn’t leave so mercilessly.

This wandering heart yearns to escape somewhere,

But finds no pause.

I’m gone again,

I’m gone again.

The morning breeze remains the same, but something is missing

It no longer touches me after caressing your hair.

The morning breeze remains the same, but something is missing

It no longer touches me after caressing your hair.

The simplicity of you, so sacred,

The humility of you, so striking.

In your shadow, I once thrived,

Walking with you, step by step.

Strangers rejoice for me,

While my own burn with envy.

Yet time has made each moment eternal,

My shows now feel like grand gatherings.

The weight of my past sins rests heavy,

Yet this life feels like nothing but a fleeting current.

My poetry, an ode to youthful days.

Now intoxicated by the pain of your absence,

Alcohol feels as ordinary as water.

Solitude stretches into progress, this bond persists—

And so, the same death, the same coffin.

This heart burns like a flame,

Yet glows as radiantly as your face.

It falters, it scents,

Forgets in drink yet remembers in longing.

You, so careless, so unburdened.

I write poetry for you—

You read it, then dismiss it.

This poor heart seeks solace at times,

If only they wouldn’t leave so mercilessly.