The first piece I produced to get my back into my old writing habits is titled and written about someone who was always out of my league, and probably always will be.
I surround myself with all pretty things,
I enjoy each time your face hides within,
Recovering from a torment, akin
To teenage crushes, naive youth pleases
Itself calling the abstract: real. Pitiless
Sorrows still haunt memory of her; trim,
Slim, of face and mind always maturing
Clearly left me behind, I am waiting.
I surround myself with baubles that shine,
In ever imagined rapport with you
Devout of course, how else should I pass time?
You bauble, your face shines that bright blue hue.
You don’t see me of course, I'm the lowly dew
What did I expect? Never, rests my moon.