Love is all but forbidden in the heart of a poet;

Don’t you see? Don’t you see!?

Love leads longing, heartache, heartbreak;

Desire, anger, greed.

And a poet’s heart is fragile, held in hand with soul and sadness;

A poet’s heart is frail, overwhelmed by emotions of the slightest.

Because the words, oh the words! They flow off the tongue like lies!

Then we drown in them like tsunamis, the size of mountains, touching the sky..

We fall and fail, into a miserable existence;

Realizing there is no reward in the center of persistence.

Our love grants us no solace, no hope or disguise!

We’re betrayed by passion, him and his clever eyes!

The words, oh the words! The things he did, he said..

His promises lay waste to our minds; leaving our souls cold and dead.

For as we walk the path of promised warmth and doting, ardor, desire….

We burned in the flames of passion and his grin reached ever higher.

He tricked us once too many, and no longer are we so prone.

We lock ourselves in towers to live insane and alone!

Thus the pain has stopped only voices, voices, voices!

The words, oh the words, they show us regret in our choices..

The words, oh the words, they make us forget ourselves completely..

The words, oh the words, how they whisper so sweetly:

 

Love is but muse in the eyes of a poet;

They may wish for the feeling,

But they not dare ever to show it.

 

The words, the words.. They ring true and nothing more.

But I am not just a poet; those words a human can ignore.