Somewhere between my veins
and my blood,
There is an engraving of your
name.
It was simply a small wish that
has now manifested itself as
something mundane.
It is devilish since your
presence makes this feeling
turn into euphoria.
But your absence turns this
emotion into misery.
How ironic though, you show
this version of yourself to
everyone. But you make it feel
like you have curated your
persona only for me. Like how
the honey only comes out
of the bee. I am amazed! What
a great performer you are!
But ask yourself this: shouldn't
you stop?
Stopping yourself from giving
away this sweetheart of a persona
to all?
It seems beyond your
comprehension that this persona
of yours is driving this sincere
heart appalled.
But if you truly don't want me,
How can you pretend like you're so
in need of me?
Then, stop. You should not plant
the seeds of love in me.
YOU ARE READING
You Who Knows Least
PoetryA sequel to my book "You Who Knows Best". Read, and you will find much intellect. The thoughts I share here are of my inner sect.
