In the stormy nights, I think of you.
Your arms, wrapped around my slender frame.
Your lips, tenderly caressing my neck. Oh how I miss it so.
Where have you gone? My sweet Romeo, you haven't returned.
My poisoned dialect has chased you far away, into the arms of another.
Oh, in such a rush? As if, our love were not of sincerity. Of passion.
We have thrown the final blows and now we deal with the pain, the burning flames of guilt and agony.
These tears do tell the truth, they fall for you.
My heart, is a frail thing. Should it build those ramparts? or shall I await your return?
Neither, mi amore. For it takes two hosts to run this game.
Our bittersweet memories now seem as if it were a dream, fading away with each newborn day.
Yet, here we are. Feeding the Flames of the forest fire hereby dubbed, our Blinded Love.
YOU ARE READING
Blinded Love.
PoetryPoetry. Emotions. Simply me, trying to find a way to release the pain in my heart.
