Poems About Her

Poems About Her

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WpMetadataReadÎn curs de desfăşurare<5 min
WpMetadataNoticeUltima publicare lun, dec 5, 2016
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Poezie
Love is the one thing that fuels our lives, that gives us purpose, that we carry to death. And she deserves all of it. Every last drop of the hearts blood on the pages, and even that will never be enough. For no words can convey what she means to me, no sonnet is strong enough to carry my love for her. But I can try.
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I made a promise, a commitment, a vow, and an oath that I'd never fall into the brutality they call love ever again, as it is something not to be toyed with. Think of it this way: Love is like a scented candle. The candle stick and the waxed aroma make the candle itself. Then it's ignited by a great inferno, and together, they make a beautiful thing. It burns for a long time, but then it loses that flame, that spark that ignited the creature. I guess the two most important ingredients gave up on each other. "Love" can be a metaphor, a simile, but most of all, a promise. A promise that can't be kept, something that waits until infinity to be broken. At least that's what I, Roseabella Swayed, once believed.

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