A poem
Like a poisoned tree
The ultimate irony
Giver of life and bearer of fruits
Now harbinger of death, and doing so dreadfully.
Love is irony
And misery is its greatest attribute
For its happiness lasts just a lifetime
But the despair lasts when death makes it part.
Worthy of your heartbeat
Is love that truly?
As just like a blossoming flower
It will welt in its own beauty.
But can you live with just the memories?
Of the past what has been
Now torn of that which was
The love that was once within.
The memories make it worthwhile
The thoughts, the emotions, the feelings
The desperation to feel that again
Against the satisfaction of telling those stories.
But you can't help but wonder
Contemplating to be alone or cherish
Because I'd rather be miserably in love
Than die with having that wish.
YOU ARE READING
Her
PoetryIt's her. It can only be her. My desperation has struck new limits for this girl. There are a lot of odds against us. The undeniable attraction. The pain of not being able to touch one another. The scare of our future. And the uncertainty of whether...
