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Love is War

Was it love or was I blind

All things end with the passing time

To know or not in my mind

Sublime and eerie haunting rhyme

Whispers softly as it hides

The trebles of tremble in the voice meek of rebels

Fallible fiction of hope constitutes little

Running away from troubles

The feeling of unlovable

..

Cowardice of the heart stops

When this is the only moment

Sequacious gold armaments

Wonโ€™t speak like print on paper

A blackened heart surely will be squeezed dry

Until our inner voices narrate in thumping beats

And the inkling of our desires run rampant

..

The devotion of a sister in black cloth

Highlights her face in a frame of white

Is the forgiveness for my obscenity lost

In all the horrid things I may come to write

Will you still be able to recognize me

When this blood runs dry

Scrawled because I emphasize that we

In love will surely die

Her hands gentle like the morning sun against my skin

Traced the words of her prayer, a cross for a war within

ยฉ The Sad Owl

Categories: poetry

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

5 replies

  1. The struggle is real and this definitely is expressive and beautifully written again. ๐Ÿ™‚ you have such a beautiful flow . It’s elegant. I don’t know how to even properly compliment your work so forgive me if I sound assumptuous. Your writing really is incredible.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for the high praises! Calling my flow elegant was a little intoxicating to hear so I will have to make sure to not let it get to my head so I can try to continue writing as eloquently as possible hahaha. Thanks again ๐Ÿ™‚

      Like

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