I tire of fight, when my love desserts thee,
all that I held so dear has disappeared,
your word of rage was never meant to hurt me,
despite no explanation volunteered.
When faith is lost, a voice cannot be heard,
and doubt will creep into a lover’s heart,
until past joys are ****** into the dirt,
burned down to blackened ashes from the start.
And all that’s left is sorrow and regret,
misunderstanding feeds a shallow mind,
and opening the door too much a threat,
for honesty is now the purest kind.
When love can be rejected when it’s true,
then there’s no hope in giving love to you.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
I tire of fight, when my love desserts thee,
all that I held so dear has disappeared,
your word of rage was never meant to hurt me,
despite no explanation volunteered.
When faith is lost, a voice cannot be heard,
and doubt will creep into a lover’s heart,
until past joys are ****** into the dirt,
burned down to blackened ashes from the start.
And all that’s left is sorrow and regret,
misunderstanding feeds a shallow mind,
and opening the door too much a threat,
for honesty is now the purest kind.
When love can be rejected when it’s true,
then there’s no hope in giving love to you.
A Sonnet
