I attempt to write short stories, but my only finished pieces are poems.
I wrote this one not a while ago:
I wrote this one not a while ago:
Love is burning, harsh and horrible.
It is a crushed teenager?s dreams,
Torn asunder and left to crumble.
Love is a torn-up cardboard package,
Destroyed in a fit of fury and despair,
Because you didn?t have the courage.
Love is empty promises and regret.
You didn?t tell them, couldn?t tell them,
Writing and poetry became your only outlet.
Love is blind faith taken to dizzying heights...
How could they not see? How could they not know?
When you?d be there for them, all those nights.
Love is the thrill that came with every word passed.
But happiness doesn?t last long,
No matter how hard you grasp.
Love is tears and heart-ache.
Every smile you brought to their face,
And every night you lay tormented and awake.
Love is what you thought you knew,
Every time you defended and comforted them,
And after all, wouldn?t they always be there for you?
Love, oh, God, I don?t know what it is anymore.
Did I ever know? Was this worth it in the end?
And here I stand, as before, broken and unsure.
This obsession is maddening; I had to let it free.
They are love? but not for me.
It is a crushed teenager?s dreams,
Torn asunder and left to crumble.
Love is a torn-up cardboard package,
Destroyed in a fit of fury and despair,
Because you didn?t have the courage.
Love is empty promises and regret.
You didn?t tell them, couldn?t tell them,
Writing and poetry became your only outlet.
Love is blind faith taken to dizzying heights...
How could they not see? How could they not know?
When you?d be there for them, all those nights.
Love is the thrill that came with every word passed.
But happiness doesn?t last long,
No matter how hard you grasp.
Love is tears and heart-ache.
Every smile you brought to their face,
And every night you lay tormented and awake.
Love is what you thought you knew,
Every time you defended and comforted them,
And after all, wouldn?t they always be there for you?
Love, oh, God, I don?t know what it is anymore.
Did I ever know? Was this worth it in the end?
And here I stand, as before, broken and unsure.
This obsession is maddening; I had to let it free.
They are love? but not for me.