It's finally spring my love.
The false promise of renewal,
hope and dreams
that survived the stark of winter war.
And once again like a zillion times before,
my mind lingers on you - my bedraggled knight.
Still reminiscing the insincere
but oh so seductive cooing
of your words whispered in desperate passion.
But every time the timbre
of that poetic song dig into
the marrow of my withering bones,
the ruthless but absolutely honest voice of it all
- my taunting, yet ever loyal sidekick - distrust
kicks back and tell me
in the clearest chime of unwedding bells,
that it was never real.
No love for real,
how hard I wanted to believe.
Believe
my heart's quest always.
Pounded down by the utmost power of knowing.
Taking down shimmering gates of roses
and mashing them all into
a weeping horrified pile of compost.
Where no new flowers will ever grow.
Fodder for black snails and spiders
to feast upon, in eager anticipation
to reach deep down, to devour
the terrified, bleeding heart
that’s buried in its rubble.
And the iron armor
cladding my spiritual self
builds stronger every day.
Polished and unbuckled.
Continuously fortifying or imprisoning me.
I move in the world effortlessly,
not one soul seeing
the tons of heavy metal
that weighs down my skinless flesh.
Bedraggled knight,
who do not know
that he still hold my fortress - my heart.
And with just one wink of the white flag
would take it all down in a rumble of tears.