Your love was very quaint
Like the dew upon leaves.
That in the jiffy vaporised
As though streaks of rays
Incident upon them burnt.
a kiss, long forgotten
turns back the time
déjà vu got your head spinning
to sweet love
sliced and shared with care
graham ******* crumbles on the chin
wiped away as a melody rings clear
keys pressed softly, your hands covering mine
harmonizing----until a ******
crescendoing like a storm
Cover your eyes, my darling
it won’t hurt
but it did
seeing that same heat
from you and another
staining your face--
as the cold flush on my cheeks
when i emptied the bucket of your love
once full to the brim
something that's been running through my head lately
oh how do you see me
the filcke thing i call me
do you see me as i dance?
do you see me as i fly?
can you watch me as i crash
can you watch me as i fall?
will you hear me if i call
will you hear me as i cry
does it hurt to have me around
does it bother you to have me gone
what does my love feel
what does your scorn taste like
oh how do you see me?
but how can I tell......you're as fickle as me?
A man’s love be fickle
His eyes do wander oft
He’ll sell you for a nickel
Just to buy a simple broth
A man’s love be instant
Leaves as quick as whence it came
Behaves as if an infant
Loves and leaves you all the same
A man’s love be finite
His passion one day ends
He leaves, he’s gone, he’s out of sight
No care to make amends
A man’s love be selfish
So beware, give love in doses
Too much and he’ll turn oafish
Give only that which makes him notice.
Recently watched Erica Whyman's (Artistic Director) rendition Romeo & Juliet (RSC; Barbican Centre, London), and the opening act of Romeo's pining for Rosaline reminded me of how quickly the male attention diverts(!) To all the Rosalines, let's not get ourselves caught up in Romeo's games too much. Take caution(!)
You are trouble. He said with sparkles in his eyes. Is that good or bad? She no more than whispered. How naive, child. To think trouble could ever be perceived as anything but destructive. Bruised is she, the troublemaker with her loyal and trusting ways. To be needed, to be looked at. Not as a challenge, something sinful but something worth staying. Leave her be, if all you see is a firecracker begging to be put to your fire. You are trouble, and she your purest desire. Don't put the blame on her. Your meekness is on nobody but you. Leave her beautiful, not broken to judge her trouble before goodbye.
Hands that only reach for you when you turn to leave, whispers that only say your name when you turn up the music and shut the world out...love that only rears it's head in their hearts when you give up on feeling anything beyond hunger; such is the fleeting nature of man. Noah_arkenswagg
So fickle is a heart that’s unsure of a love that is not receptive
It ponder if it should stay or go
Fight or surrender
Give it all or become selfish
It waits for a sign so small like a smile
Then it returns devoted to fight
But then the sudden sign of a cold shoulder
Dips the heart into a downpour of insecurities
It’s back to square one
A never ending cycle
A broken heart attempting to repair its damages
Returning to the person who disassembled it
I can be so **** fickle.
Get into situations that end so sour.
Sweet memories turn bitter.
Always craving to be forever green,
but then fear any routine.
Changing my flavor so fast like I've been pickled.
And now I’m an acquired taste.
I like it, but I know not many do
and most importantly you.
For you, vinegar reeked of betrayal.
I always knew you hated pickles.
Now you cannot stand the sight of me.