Poetic Justice

Tragedies

I've read tragedies,
Of broken hearts,
And daggers and death.
Of stone cages and coffins.

But for some reason,
I find an odd beauty in these stories,
That lead to tremor,
From the very first page.

I find beauty,
In the hope of lost lover's eyes,
So set upon being together,
When every aspect pushes them aside.

There seems not to be anything,
Not even death,
Greater than the inseparable love,
That are shared between those lost eyes.
They are forbidden,
Yet they care not for the outcome,
Why? I ask myself,
Perhaps because love is weakness,
But it is strength at the same time.

Have you ever heard such absurdity before? Of weakness being strength?
But it is so similar,
To the best moments of their lives,
Having the outcome of their worst.

Their daydream dances,
In one another's arms,
Led to the greatest nightmare of them all.
Their sweet kisses,
Turned into crimson blood,
Of daggers planted in chests.

They made one another's hearts whole,
But just as easily,
Crushed it into a million pieces,
By only the look,
Into lifeless eyes.

Perhaps I speak from the silliness in my mind,
The part that wishes to die loved,
To die the most painful death of all,
Wouldn't be the worst,
As long as I've sacrificed like those
Tragedy struck lovers,
As long as I've died a life,
Where the only purpose of life existed,
Love.

Perhaps I find the tragedies greater
Than the happily ever afters,
They show that love ought to be fought for,
Not given willingly to.
The most beautiful love,
Is found in it's tragedy.