Murder of Passion
Unrequited love is so cruel,
an evil crime of passion’s fuel.
This fiery passion I had known
a well of vigor I had grown.
Inside of me is large and deep
Where lavas hiss, and sorrows creep
I loved her with infinities
And stayed with her deficiencies
There is no body, there is no crime.
My existence was not paradigm.
Our love bloomed in the astral plane
Or maybe just within my brain
Where guilt cascades right off the tongue
As pathological it hung
Dissociation resonates
Supplanted love can devastate
As passion still is unconstrained
The middle moments unexplained
The empathy, a rear seat
The passion at a boiling heat—
The windows of the soul, blacked out,
a tick of lethargy, no doubt.
How come she never strayed my way?
And murdered passion, everyday
My life depends upon my peers
Emotions charged, yet never clear
Inside of me I am so large
It depends on who I put in charge
The currents blow of love and hate
Depends on who manipulates.
When in the end she took my core
And left my soul so weak and poor.
With no law to charge her with crime.
I lost my soul, but my heart beats fine.
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Wow ! I am blown away by this poem, Paul. Great phrasing and the flow of thoughts your character has is very well penned. Fantastic piece and well done.
Thank you so much Phyllis. I had to edit this one too many times, i even edited it after your comment. I am glad you enjoyed it.
Cleverly rendered Paul, and I so relate, as to all those possibilities within us, especially where love is concerned. A great feel and tight phrasing gave the work an ominous yet relatable read. Great work mate!
Thank you so much Tony. I am glad you related to this.