“She’s a bunch of broken maybes, never certain, never known, not even to herself.

I've seen the colour of poetry
It's black and white and blue
I've seen the love for poetry
It's in you and you and you

Anyway, it'd be cheaper if products didn't advertise
But, instead, they waste all that good money
to cloud our vision and stuff our ears
Just to inform in the Information Age, you think
But, really, it's to mold
Look at the Billions spent on psychologists
Don't be confused

Weren't stars beautiful
Until they were rendered
Burning ***** of plasma

Weren't miracles beautiful
Until they were rendered
Objects of finite probability

There is beauty in mystery
There is comfort in knowing.
You must make a choice.

I need to know if you're okay.
Please tell me if you are.
I need to know whats going on.
Let me in.
I'm at the door waiting for you to open it.
Just, let me in my love.
I'll always be here.
I'm here waiting for you to let me in the door.
My dear, my love, I'm here.

•

Your love is as sweet as the sugar,
                   That  I've been addictively indulging,
             For so many years.



        Every piece of you,
                      Is just the most gratifying that I have tasted!




                                   But when together we've been drowned with tribulations,





                                    You just gave up rapidly...






And dissolved!




                                   Integrating and going with the flow,

                         Of those torments and allurements,




Now where are you?




You are now a part of those afflictions that drowned you,


                                            I can still taste your sweetness,


                      Every time I sip through the trials,
                                That we've face,
          Resulting to weaken your knees,
    And been defeated,




       I was totally in great pain,


        To know that your love,

Can be just greatly surmounted,

                            By miseries in life,



But what can I do?

                                            I fight, you relinquish,


And until then,

You just become a memory,

Of an achingly baleful chronicles of my life.


                      © Earl Jane
                         ♥ E.J.C.S.