Eat. Sleep. Love. Repeat.

My latest poem about falling into love's vicious spin cycle.

Light, the kind that brings the faintest glimmer of hope,

appeared suddenly through a darkened wood;

like an oasis after travelling through the Sahara so parched

with thirst threatening to take my life for good.

Though death’s bony palm lazily gripped my arm,

it was just rough enough for me to hear its confession;

lecherously it whispered in my ear,

that I would soon become its latest possession.

Could it be that the answer I sought and then revered

had finally arrived upon its noble steed as though a God?

My eyes too weak from tears to see whether it was a blessing

or if it was concealing a curse within its threadbare purse.

Much too pained, 

with shallow breaths I take pathetic steps, 

afraid of acquiring evermore heartache as debt, 

which I forbade before embarking on this clueless quest.

Was it true the skies had selected me this day to prize,

unable to accept that my turn had come, just yet.  

Disbelief unshaken, for I had long grown weary of my faith;

the spell love cast had not been broken, I was still carrying its chains.

That speck of white that shone through lit a fire in my chest,

for I had long anticipated an anchor to steady my skittish ship.

From ash to glowing embers, this inferno progressed,

growing wilder with each second, until there was a raging blaze and nothing else.

I shed my shredded armour, matted with layers of hurt,

ripped off the rags that adorned me, 

filthy from being dragged too often through the dirt.

The chaos in my cerebral cortex left me to my own device;

forced me out from my phantom fairy tale

and shoved me into the black of night.

This dopamine daydream that I so desperately tried to keep,

silenced the serotonin soliloquies that so often substituted sleep.

I crashed through my own shadow with superhuman strength,

sprinting towards this saviour that seemed sacrosanct.

The flittering lights that would only flicker,

soon formed a floating orb dancing across my field of vision;

like a love-struck paramour, in boulevards Parisian.  

Free at last; at last, my love had come along,

equipped with all I needed so that I could carry on.

The emptiness within me, was once again so barren,

as hollow as my head all the times before that I had fallen.

I was not only filled but teeming, overflowing with such joy;

for I was freshly dressed in a brand new love and ready to be destroyed.

Author's Note

What do you think of the flow? I find that my writing can be a little choppy and I am unsure of how to fix that. Thank you in advance for your review.