I seek the fire of comfort from my lover's hands,
I seek the sweet nothings that my heart's nature demands;
but none gather I, seem to want to handle my aching pry,
and none gather I, seem to want to hold me when I cry,
so what should I do to stop feeling blue?
What should I do to make his love renew?
Because the only solution I see is not what I want to be;
the only solution I see is what society gives to me;
but to resort to tying the rope,
would mean leaving my heart to mope;
but to to resort to tying the rope,
would mean abandoning all my hope;
and this not what I want to do in this hell,
I do not want to leave myself only a shell;
so now heed the apex of what my words do,
for I have already reached the limit of my cue.
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...
