So here's a poem I made in my first semester of college while taking a course called The Practice of Poetry. I feel that poetry expresses yourself in a way essays and stories can't, that's why I love poetry.
Waiting
for Her
My face expressionless, like a blank piece of paper.
Here I spend my days sitting
And waiting for my dream to come true. God
Does not answer the small prayers I send every
Day, since the day she left. Like a soft wind in the
Desert, my happiness gently sails away, only to be
Replaced by depriving hopelessness. It saddens me
To know she does not understand what I feel. I weep
At night knowing
She will never. And yet,
What do I miss about her?
Will it be her dark brown eyes
That one can stare at forever? Or maybe
Her silky hair that flows like liquid hazelnut,
Delicately tinted a golden shade?
Her smile engraved in my brain
Like a tattoo, but I know the sting will never end.
Not ever again will I be able to
Appreciate her beauty, forever longing to
See again, like a man losing his vision. The aching
Inside claws at my mind, scraping out every
Last sane thought,
Making my days turn dark.
I walk everyday through
My colorless life, seeking an end in limbo.
I wait for something. Anything,
To rescue me. But hope is far, like an old memory
Trying to be remembered.
What can save me; it is so
Simple.
I only need to see her again.
If by luck, blessing, or time,
I
won’t complain
Should dream become reality,
An end to this miserable blindness
Would arise with full liberation.
Meanings in everyday doings would have
A greater significance. The dim light that
Shines on Earth would be as bright as His
brilliance.
Black will turn gray, and the entrance out of
nothingness
Would appear.
The crumpled bottle I hold in my hand would
Finally be filled with water, cleansed like a baptism
of a sinner.
But this is only
If it were.
I am still here.
Waiting.
Stuck within a dark cage,
Hands feeling the ground
for the key.
Wishing and dreaming
For her arrival.
