#painoflove
These miss you nights go on forever
Echoes from my mind, to my heart
Through my core ~
Yet they never
Whisper any notion of
When the waiting will be over
Misty coloured mornings
Gradually appease daylight hours
Into nights injuriously
Adept in loneliness.
You are not here
To wane these solitary nights
That go on endlessly
My security, is your love
A deep feeling of joyfulness
From the second
I looked in your eyes
When I saw my name
Written in your soul
On the nights - I miss you most
These are the moments I console myself with
Until the dream becomes a living reality
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
does love conquer all?
it’s a funny notion –
for all it ever taught me was defeat:
defeat so debilitating,
it borders on cruelty;
cruelty so brazen,
it borders on psychopathic;
it makes you feel like a man,
as it grips you by the *****
makes you feel like a pig,
while it humours your piety.
given a chance,
it would split you in half:
one half –
pulling punches;
the other half –
paralyzed by reproach;
you want to kick love
in the teeth;
you want to love love
with all your heart;
you want to do both –
and not lose your mind
at the same time.
you want to choke love’s
throbbing throat and
watch it gag on your
undying passion;
and when the war is over,
you’re left wondering –
‘was it even a fair figh—
— oh, right… that was never in the picture.’
so, i guess –
love does conquer all:
all that you are,
all that you’ll ever be,
and all that’s left of you.
Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 1:29 AM UTC
The time is now
The happenstance is palpable
The feeling inescapable
Of this fake row
Coincidence and irony
Will belittle such harmony
So take a bow
The outcome staged
Life is a ball of confusion
Charm the key to the illusion
Emotions raged
Like pangs of flawless buggery
Fading in the skulduggery
Empathy caged
A manic mind
In truth, it feels rather subtle
A melancholy rebuttal
To your vain kind
I shall fall and rise once again
I will be victorious then
The heart is blind
The end of time
Frees the burning desire inside
Sleeping dogs lie holding their pride
The clock will chime
Your life seems lost in the sorrow
There’s not always a tomorrow
So pay your dime
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
They discovered it and were trying to get to the bottom of it.
They had not encountered anything like this before, but they knew the effects of it.
Lying in the bed, waiting for his death, he looks as pale as a full moon night.
The aura of pain emitting from him is as gloomy as the new moon night.
They tried to cheer him up, guiding him to get out of pain, but all of them knew only he had to go through it alone.
That is the nature of the sickness that found him, which is called by the name 'love.'
There is no medicine for it except her redemption of the love given by him.
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 11:29 AM UTC