Of lost love and living lost.
A lie of denied heart-tugging’s, oh
how did we become so
unable to be who we are, and
this wrenching of the soul,
what spiteful spirit lies
within to render me so lost
it must be love, though
I doubt so I search and
see her eyes sparkle and
I am hooked as though
from an injection of China
White and I stare at the abyss of
my own murder in the caress of
her lips that grip me
stronger than a python
ever could and I am left
feeble and idiotic only?
A victim of passion
dreading the snapped heart and
tears and missed possibilities
and feelings of utter failure hit
me, yet I would die for her
crush cities for her
but truly dare not
tell her how I feel so
I am destined for tragedy
destined for regret
destined to wonder ‘if only I’.
Of lost love and living no more.
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