You are the creed that I have been praying,
a belief that my tongue could not utter;
eyes closed—asking your name upon kneeling,
Son of Venus, let him be the answer
to my untold prayers of everyday,
quench this thirst by the chalice of his love
then I'd submit myself and won't betray
for he's the one I'm asking from above.
I'm the believer and you are the creed
I've been writing through the snout of my pen;
a cordial scripture that I'll always read
and a litany I'd wish to happen—
You are my creed that I've loved to believe,
yet you're a belief that Cupid can't give.
YOU ARE READING
Blued Lines
PoetryTo those whose heart has been ripped apart, you're not alone in the boat. If you think that poets write wonderful lines and echoing endings, then you got it wrong because we also get broken and as you read each poem, the sadder and painful it become...
