“Maybe what I feel for you is true.
I’m tired of writing poems about you.
You destroy all of the beautiful words I arrange,
and I know people like you and I change.
But you still look at me, for I’ve caught your eyes.
They’re the only thing that have connected us  without ties.
In my own words, I’m telling you.
If we’re not to blame, then who?
So please, hold my hand just one more time.
and to my heart, it will be the greatest crime.
But my mind just needs to know.
if it’s you my soul wants to follow.
and I know the past, I can’t undo
but, I’m so tired of writing poems about you.”

-J.P. Trochez (vers libre).