Beautiful Things

 

Why do I always fall in love with the most beautiful of things?

Why is it that they alone will catch my breath

and in turn bring me these sweet sufferings-

the pang of unrequited love- delusion, so fine

so diminished in the hands of lovers

who walk across the street-

hand in hand

they do not know the shadows creep

of envious sceptres such as me.

 

But I, in all my repertoire, will calmly sit and please,

Be it wished by those who taught me,

I will turn the other cheek.

But alas, poor thing, poor lark,

When all is wounded and all is dark,

Will seamless perfection filter through,

And once again, I adorn my mask- a ruse

A game that never works to hook,

But one that will comfort me when my heart is took,

And brittle wasted, washed away-

Till all is left is slings and hate

 

But darkness never lasts as long as I will it,

For sooner the bell tolls, for sooner I find it-

That bitter need to fall in love,

To forgive the trespasser as he- the one above,

And so never granted, but always wished,

My love will always be remised-

To whoever would stake the claim

This week’s King to the Queen of pain.

 

 

Author's Note

something dark and yet romantic... I'm progressing my poetry to something a little more aged, mature and romantic. Trying out new styles and things... and still keeping that spontaneous energy. I hope that comes across :)

Reviews

[words_of_rain]

love it! love your words. Sounds like something from the old poets.