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Roaming

They find the best — a golden shore, A love that is rich, yet yearn for more. They climb the peak, the summit high, Then scan again the endless sky. The jewel gleams within their hand, But whispers come like grains of sand: 'What if there is more? What if you missed A rarer stone, a sweeter kiss?' They sip the wine, refined and rare, Then search for vineyards unaware. Their hands are full, their hearts unsure — As if the finest must mature. The perfect song, the flawless art, Still doesn’t still their restless heart. For something stirs beyond the known — A haunting hunger not outgrown. They find the best, yet roam and roam, As if they never will feel home. Not out of greed, nor prideful fire — But by a ghost called Something Higher.
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Trading Shoes for Meat

I met her when my wallet sighed,  
A hollow echo deep inside.  
My dreams were big, my funds were thin,  
But love, they say, can still begin.

She liked the stars, the finer meals,  
I offered walks and discount deals.  
While others booked a Zanzibar flight,  
We shared a soda, split just right.

She laughed at memes, not wine and cheese,  
I prayed my rent came with some ease.  
Yet every time her phone would ring,  
It cost more than my everything.

They said that love can conquer all,  
But never mentioned credit calls.  
A dinner date? A costly feat—  
That left me trading shoes for meat.

Yet in her eyes, I sometimes see,  
A warmth that doesn’t charge a fee.  
But still I wonder, half in jest,  
If love is broke, is broke still blessed?

So here I sit, with heart aglow,  
And overdraft in red to show—  
That dating broke, while sweet, is tough,  
And poverty, it seems, loves love.

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