We enter in,
Not by choice,
Our heart insists;
We feel the need,
The need that God has burnt
Upon our soul,
The one that cannot be denied,
But when the love is not returned,
The sheltering warmth
Becomes a sad and cutting burden,
A garden maze disorienting,
It would be better if its grip were
Cold,
To let us know how toxic was
This place,
But we are trapped,
Trapped within this sad and empty
Garden,
Warmed only by the sad
And lonely heat
Of our own
Forlorn and solitary love,
There to nurse the draining
Agony
Of a heart
Permanently broken,
Whose only wish would be
That its beat would cease,
And stop the endless ache.

Copyright 2011 by Gary L. Misch

All rights reserved