Even after it all,
I cannot help my trust in you;
even after all my tears,
even after all we've been through;
even when you come home,
late at night and flustered;
with courtesy to lie,
that you've all but pined & mustered;
even after you leave me crying,
drowning in a pool of my own whining;
even after I am left alone,
with hatred for her burning me to the very bone;
even when I need your support,
but you're not there because you're too busy with your 'sport,'
I cannot help my love for you,
the best of my fair darlings;
I cannot help my feeling blue,
with all your starlings;
one who brings light to my eyes;
with a concubine of whom I despise,
who makes me feel like I'm in heaven;
and leaves me in hell for all the seven;
the one from whom I'll never depart;
not until death do us apart;
for at the end of the day,
it's in my arms you come to lie anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
