Not a soul forewarned me of this sorrow,
The sorrow that crept internally and began to disembogue,
To watch the other you beloved walk away in morrow,
Knowing well the emotions played will end like a bezique,
Revenge takes its toll for my mind is vain,
Day-to-day I ache and grow more like glyceraldehyde,
But these emotions I am held captive to force to contain,
I now take it week by week and walk the tiled underearth with false pride,
Eventually that false pride morphs into self-satisfaction,
That glyceraldehyde gains its colours and rules the day again,
I once again am painted by the color as an illustration,
The masterpiece once created by two lovers shed away like snakeskin,
With the light nights bounds a mixture of confidence,
With dark days spreading like a plague resembles remembrance.
YOU ARE READING
Mending Yourself {Sonnet}
PoetryA Sonnet inspired from the book Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. This Sonnet begins with the division of two close lovers and ends in self-Love. Not everyone finds themselves in someone else.
