Tony DeLorger © 2016
For love’s despair is wounds so deep,
scars of future’s heart to reap,
and all that lured a heart to open wide,
is singed by flames, the death of love
And in definitive pain, a soul forlorn,
can but lose itself in memories sweet,
of superlative moments in blissful high,
before the curse of love denied.
Oh how missed those afferent moments,
those soft inviting lips and whispers warm,
when world so distant and flesh restored
in the wake of love’s surrender.
And now that emptiness haunts my sleep,
when all has lost its purpose, its meaning,
and the heart all cold and lost its dream,
for life alone is all life seems.
How I long for closure,
for memories to fall to slumbers drift,
and pretend that love and pain had never been,
to seal those wounds and somehow,