I loved everything I’d seen about her
But peculiarly, she knew nothing of me
I truly experienced a delicate abruptness
Needless to say I felt lost in the contrast
Was it all fiction itself, or worse, was I?
Could I be the abstract thought-dream;
That never comes to fruit, or animation?
Oh how the turn of a lens never changes
Stories and fairy-tales oft blur reality
But not her, not from my perceptive point
And yes, I tweaked the rules of evidence
How could I not, in the spirit of fairness?
Metamorphism was at play, or to blame
After all, she moved me, in every way
Like some soul magnet, slowly pulling
Resistance: had never become a thought
And if she was a mere dream herself;
I’d prefer remaining fast at rest, forever
It feels rather hellish, straddling a threshold
Being pulled back and forth, for loves sake
Between imperfect life and perfect delusions
No wonder so many go mad to love…perfection
Poet of the Light © 2019
Between imperfect life and perfect delusions
No wonder so many go mad to love…perfection
These 2 lines, just amazing
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Thank my friend. It means a lot to me as well.
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You’re welcome xoxo
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I agree with Taylor, those final lines really got to me. I love the thought of “delicate abruptness” too.
This is beautifully written x
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You’re most kind. Thanks again. Love your feedback too.
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Wow. Magnificent. Truly. I adore this.
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You’re too kind, Thanks. Glad to see it appreciated.
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