Life is cruel, and part of that is love, ergo love can be cruel. In this piece, I dive into the deepest insecurity I have, not having to matter in the grandest scale of things.
(Note: This journal is almost complete)
"This scepter I take
a kingdom to partake
where the fall of its ruin
is spoken to debate
the fools of its kin
and the wise of the conquer
for no righteous duty
can prevent such slumber
its fate intertwines
with the shallow divine
believing in love
believing in the line
but what ponders within
is the present too shrewd
I cannot love clearly
knowing of you...
The suffering matters
in this quartet of words
having better to rhyme
than be lost and misheard
25 letters embarked
the last entry of this journal
for dismay lasts plenty
in the humor of this collateral
As what Seneca once said
the freedom is at its mist
beheaded by the suckle
of one's dreaded wrists
to be wronged in loving
is the worst of the drinks
a poisoned compound
some old feud to unlist
this is not understood
for words are mere mortals
driven by a dictionary
bred by flowery lots
One is an idiot of love
we weep not only today
but the generations ahead
of this romantic crusade
my love for her embers
but I feel its mischief
her love for me faints
as the toxins impede
This is what I fear
to lose all that is hope
for love itself truly
anoints the dreaded cold
and no coal will spark
in such fiery art
for nothing comes by
in the essence that departs...
I love you o dearest
but freedom has a price
for slip did the notice
in such unwavering demise
and with all that is said
all I know is dread
leaving not that past
or anything ahead
My heart weeps, indeed it does..."
YOU ARE READING
LILY (A compilation of messy love poems)
PoetryThis book is a compilation of poems I've written to someone who is dear to me.
