His likeness beguiles me
Within my dreams;
This heart adores
The image it conjures,
A rickety mind's projection
Of what romance could be.
In fantasy, his words
Are thoughtful, his eyes
Are warm -
I believe in the promises
He makes.
His lips are familiar,
I am safe in his arms.
He is trustworthy, and forgiven
At long last.
He is all that - and more -
In these unwonted dreams;
The haze of the moonlight
Is reflective, it seems,
For it shows me
What I gave
To him.
I have not seen him in
The light of day
For some time now,
And I wonder why
These thoughts linger still.
I know that his words
Are self-serving, his eyes
Are cold -
I should not believe in anything
He says.
His lips are not mine to taste,
And he will only take
Full advantage once again
Should my guard slip away.
He is not to be trusted,
But perhaps to be forgiven?
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
