Untitled #6

#confondue

Never caught a feeling this hard,
Harder than all the liquor I've poured,
Tell me you'll want me ever more,
Tell me cause I can't let go.
Everybody told me so,
Feeling like I sold my soul,
To a devil made of gold.

Even though there's no one left to come...

Even though there's no one left to come,
I still like to wait and hope that someone would find me
At the end of this road.
Spring accidentally visited me a few times,
Having lost her way,
As such are these visits, unplanned and abrupt,
She never lets flowers bloom on my way.
My only constant visits me once a year,
Monsoon renews me with hope,
Of someone who might come,
Or probably never come but still,
I still I like to hope and wait,
So I leave my doors half open every night,
Every day, anxious not to miss that visit,
And this evening, in the darkest hour,
I heard hesistant footsteps coming along the way,
I rejoiced and ran to my door,
My hopeful black eyes stared up the road,
Only to realise the lost traveller was retracing his steps
And that no one is left to come.