black
grey
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Just tell me that it won’t be the same- that one day I won’t look at you, and only see a stranger.

M.K. Standby

The smell of oak reminds me of summers spent sleeping under canvas, crackling fires and roasted coffee, the soft sound of guitar and voices in unison.
M.K. STANDBY

Fire Guitar Reminder Softness Sound Summer Unison Voice
14 days, but I can’t change my sheets. Your scents still marks my pillow – and its all that I have left.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Up Change I Miss You
Scribbled lines and crumpled pages – piles of rejection and resurrection. There will never be the right words to amend a lost goodbye.
M.K. STANDBY

Goodbye Lost Poet Rejection Right Writing
The knot in a grain of wood, a frost covering sodden grass. Mornings warmed by the rising sun and brewing coffee – the vision of the poet.
M.K. STANDBY

Forest Perspective Poet Rising Vision
I see the way that he is with you – holding your heart with softness he never spared for mine.
M.K. STANDBY

Jealousy Myself Relationship See Way
Just tell me that it won’t be the same- that one day I won’t look at you, and only see a stranger.
M.K. STANDBY

Future Myself People Stranger
In the pale light of a setting sun – I’ll hold your hand and promise to love you more, on the days that you forget to love yourself.
M.K. STANDBY

Forget Love Hands Hold Promise Sun Yourself
I sit by the sea wall, willing the waves to stay. Pulling away with gentle abandon – they avenge me for doing the same.
M.K. STANDBY

Abandonment Myself Sea Stay Wall Wave
So long as we share a sky, in this life and any after – I’ll find my way back to you.
M.K. STANDBY

Finding Share Sky Way Yourself
My thoughts feel like plagiarism – a feeling already felt, the words already written.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Plagiarism Thinking Writing
Born in one country and raised in another – seperated by ocean, but tied in blood.
M.K. STANDBY

Blood Country Immigrant Ocean
I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.
M.K. STANDBY

Fade Growth Mediocre Myself Page Scare
And when I imagine my home – above all else, I’ll always think of you.
M.K. STANDBY

Home Imagination Thinking Yourself
It spills from my fingers faster than ink can flow – feelings too strong to contain, emotions that demand to be felt.
M.K. STANDBY

Demand Fast Feeling Fingers Flow
I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Reality Reminder Scars Thinking
Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.
M.K. STANDBY

Beyond Hold Language Limitation Scope

Just tell me that it won’t be the same- that one day I won’t look at you, and only see a stranger.

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Just tell me that it won’t be the same- that one day I won’t look at you, and only see a stranger.

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