deepundergroundpoetry.com
What if he's The One
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
The beat pounds in my head
In daybraeak,
In my bed,
As I look in the mirror.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
We turned away to find the one
Towards the sun,
Towards the wind,
As I look in the mirror.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
Chance be that not today
Maybe someday,
Maybe Sunday,
As I look in the mirror.
What if he’s the one?
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
The beat pounds in my head
In daybraeak,
In my bed,
As I look in the mirror.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
We turned away to find the one
Towards the sun,
Towards the wind,
As I look in the mirror.
What if… what if… what if…
He’s the one, he’s the one, he’s the one.
Chance be that not today
Maybe someday,
Maybe Sunday,
As I look in the mirror.
What if he’s the one?
Published 17th Jan 2018
| Edited 21st Jan 2018
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The author encourages honest critique.
17th Jan 2018 6:53am
17th Jan 2018 7:05am
17th Jan 2018 5:02pm
18th Jan 2018 5:17am
reminds me of: blue, blue, my world is blue;
& led me to this :
what if, what if he's the one?
the one who beats the beat -
the beat that breaks the daybreak -
two lovers in a bed
that mirrors in my head...
& led me to this :
what if, what if he's the one?
the one who beats the beat -
the beat that breaks the daybreak -
two lovers in a bed
that mirrors in my head...
18th Jan 2018 7:49pm
25th Apr 2018 2:17am
25th Apr 2018 7:06am
5th May 2018 4:01am
Nice use of repetition. It's quite a nice poem. The little breaks in each verse make this very interesting.
5th May 2018 2:05pm
Lol, I see you're obsessing as you speak, repeating yourself. Must be your sensitive phone. Yes but I love the 'The beat pounds in my head...' 'We turned away to find the one...' verse breaks (as I call them) lines between the obsessive mayhem going on in your mind, as you write. It's good stuff.
