Understandably

abused, acceptance, art, break-ups, creative writing, depression, emotions, excerpts, Fiction, heartache, heartstrings, irony, literature, loneliness, love, memories, missing someone, muse, own worse enemy, poetry, poets, recovery, self-discovery, self-reflection, sensual, short stories, Uncategorized 1 Minute

Love- is not painful by nature

Human perversion does that

Taking away its unique beauty

In order to claim ownership

Of love itself, all that it derives

Crudely etching one’s inscription

Across some fabric of delusion

 

Pain itself is discreetly infused

When the enchanted emotions

Of love is discolored, then abused

Only those who wish to misuse love

Would dare promote its wreckage

As being a necessity in loves quest

When the truth is, love only- loves

And humans, well they do the rest

 

Lust is who wears that false face

The true thief, of human hearts

Boldly stealing what otherwise

It could never obtain- or touch

Dragging us all most unwittingly

Into depths of sheer darkness

After tethering our deep fears

Submerged, we’re wet embers

 

It is there, in that dark palace

Where we are left abandoned

Far from where love intended

And the only thing we dare rein

Is our own infected imagination

Whilst our hearts beat onward

Its distinct song in silent hope

Our true lover will come along

And rescue us and truth of…love

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

 

 

 

Published by Poet of the Light

I like to steal your breath as you stutter to whisper the word beautiful after reading. I'm a poetic writer, an aberrational one of sorts. I don't write for the world seeking conformity to a style or some label of free expression, I permit my heart to whisper, while I serve as it stenographer and publisher. I'm honored my readers serve as its witnesses. What you may infer from this site; my hearts process or what it has to say, is strictly up to you to decide for yourself. I do appreciate comments in whatever degree of appreciation or criticism others feel the need to leave behind. I hope to respond in kind to them with a thank you openly or in a private conversation. Feel free to contact me if you so wish.

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12 thoughts on “Understandably”

  5. “He was still silent about the images he saw behind his closed eyes. It seemed as if he loved this pain, that he loved her as he had loved me, very much, until he died perhaps, and that now he preferred her to me.” – Marguerite Duras, “The Lover”. Your poem reminds me of this quote … it makes more sense within the context of the book 🙂

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