A Poem About Love

Writing

Love.

Imaginary, or a force of nature?

Like the idea of ‘consciousness’.

Are they both just falsehoods,

Or truly realities experienced by those favoured?

 

Love.

As comforting as a hot bowl of soup,

On a cold frosty evening.

In its absence we are all but,

Lost souls, floating on rafts destined for sinking.

 

Love.

Perhaps yearned for more than money itself,

A truth too close to the heart,

That we mask it with our insatiable appetite for wealth.

I gush with guilt in admitting to the above.

Only to find myself alone at night,

Wondering. What it means to be loved. 

 

Poem: Lust

Writing

I love you,

More than I love myself.

Likened to a fly in a black widow’s web,

I entangle myself.

 

In your lust.

 

I obey you.

Favouring your plans.

Dismissing my own in the blink of an eye.

To keep you.

 

I lose myself.

 

I fear you,

I fear that you have blinded me.

I barely know myself anymore.

Is it me or is it us?

 

Who’s to trust?

 

In your lust,

I lose myself.

Who’s to trust?

 

Poem: Wait

Writing

That dank smell still lingers,

Lost in the lustre of your memory

I refigure

A life without you, I just don’t want delivered.

Why did you say goodbye

when byes are never good

I feel lost more now than ever

Yet back then somehow I understood

That for  you to return

Would be a wish too big to grant

And that for me to live and learn

Was my only actionable plan.

I think back to the time when you held my hand

When you grinned I laughed

When we kissed my heart danced

Now only to realise what I had but can never have.

 

**The feeling of missing the relationship and intimacy I had with someone in the past.