*You wrote a romantic love poem
that loved you and me
like the flower and bee
and all this poured at the dreaming May

Now I write a sad love poem
that is again calling you, my love
and I build a tragic epitaph of love
May be it will be the end of my gleaming May

###
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

The older I get
The less that I want
The less that I do
The more that I don't

The older I get
The less that I need
The less that I want
The more that I see

The older I get
The less that I take
The less that they offer
The more that they say

The older I get
The less time I have left
The less I admit
The more I regret

This love
overwhelms
short circuits my system.

Unsure how to deal,
all such new ground.

What are the rules?
How does this end?
What goes in between?

Do not trust…
so says my head.

Please…try…maybe,
says my heart.

I am a rose.
Soft petals,
subtle scent,
but get too close,
hold too tight,
and you might bleed.

Perhaps more a
Venus fly trap.
Interesting, odd,
hybrid colors,
but
keep your distance,
at arms length,
pray for safety.

All It ever knew,
all it ever learned was…
observe,
don’t let’em too close,
always retreat,
and, if they reach out
to touch…
chomp down,
liquefy,
destroy!

Your love overwhelms,
short circuits
my system.

Creates new paths,
opens doors unseen,
wraps the heart
in silk and velvet,
tenderly held
in a special place,
away from
unwanted storms,
aimed at maiming
and destruction.

Nerves grow,
reaching out
to new ground,
sprouting words and
images never
known before.

Not sure what
to make of it.

I hear again
the whispered exchange
between mind
and heart.

Mind asks,
“Can you…
should you…
trust?
What have you
learned in eons
passed?”



Heart replies,
“We can smile,
wide, bright.
A smile that reaches
the eyes,
and we can try,
can’t we…maybe…
please?”

This time
we will try.

This time,
the heart wins.


-by Mercurychyld
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