Too good to read (Or The Happiness Overwhelms Me)
These love poems seem so vapid
Calling to some former self
That I've buried deep within
Love is far and wide and distant
Without use to my present state
Those love poems make me happy
I reject and thwart their task
Sadness and weary eyes reflect
My new chosen mode of being
Negativity abounds, smiles dissipate
The love poems speak of comfort
I am inconsolable and without solace
Food has found its bitter taste
Hate fills my heart with sorrow
Sobbing through deep breaths I deflate
What love poems could I write
A virgin whispering into pillows
Uncalled and blocked -- "At 17" too true
Barred from lovely discourse
Sighing into an ascribed, bleak Fate
Written 7/8/10
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment