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Mar 2017
You fed me on love but never taught how to survive
when the times of drought come, and ultimately, they did arrive
you planted roses of promises all over the garden of my heart
florets I was fooled to believe would bloom just like that
why didn't you ever tell me that roses only bloomed in the abundance of rain
so at least I'd water my soul in such moments rather than see the flowers of hope in my heart whither in pain
you held my hand for so long, never gave me a single chance to learn
how to trudge the boulevard of desolation, not once did you let me walk alone
you dressed me in the warm sweat shirt of your tight embrace
like I'd wear it for forever, like I'd wear it until it is all tattered and old
Never ever did I ever imagine someday you'd peel it off and leave me in cold
you hugged me so selflessly, smiled that I forgot how to live without the face
You took me swimming in the deep end of the Oceans of romance
yet didn't tell me that I survived the perilous adventures by chance...
You taught me how to dance, how to listen to music and let flow through and thrive
but didn't tell me that once you left the same symphony would leave me barely alive
You encouraged me to always make memories no matter the cost
if only I had known those memories would return taunting like a Gothic ghost
haunt my mind and leave me hopeless and lost,
like a rudderless ship washed by waves to some unknown coast
to an extent, I'd pray for a down pour of amnesia to wash away the things a valued most
Maybe you should have warned me that love was sweet and sour
that it is a beautiful rose but does fade like any other beautiful flowers
that even if we were a bed of roses even roses have spiky thorns
and that Hearts fracture so bad much as they bear no bones...
You should have told me fairy tales were merely stories we were told to find sleep
that much as you were mine to hold, it was no guarantee you were mine to keep...
you should have told me all the secrets you concealed and the dark side you hid
maybe I wouldn't have believed you then, but it probably could have hurt less than it actually did
Ignatius Hosiana
Written by
Ignatius Hosiana  30/M/Kampala-Uganda
(30/M/Kampala-Uganda)   
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