Love can make you weak,
cause you to weep,
tears of loss. Years gone,
but at what cost?
Leave you feeling
like moss upon a stone.
Growing stale,
fearing you've failed.
You try to atone,
for crimes, not committed,
but you can't repair time
or something you didn't break,
no matter how often its resubmitted.
Love can steal
your unique mentality.
Morphing you
into a clone,
a sheep, so desperate to hear
the way she bleats
below the eerie undertones.
You sink into obscurity.
You think in terms of sentimentality.
She wouldn't hurt me on purpose,
she is trying to make us work. Of course,
All this does is send
your thoughts off course.
But love insists
that this is what works best for you.
So, you follow the story through,
even if bits feel unreal or completely untrue.
Love bites on cold lonely nights.
when the old you comes over to stay.
It absorbs all light,
like the blackest paint
in a sealed-tight room.
It chokes with reminders
of that stale perfume.
A gas chamber
to feel the gloom.
Love leaves you floundering.
A fish in the desert heat.
Love makes it harder to trust,
as your old, unbeating, steely heart
crumbles into red dust
flakes, years of rust
shake free.
Love can make you weep,
as the words seep into your skull,
the embodiment of the anti-muse
will try to lull,
to cull your thoughts
before they come to you.
Slurping your creative juices.
Until a withered husk
is all you are reduced to.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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