Hi Everybody! This next poem is a collaboration I did with Winnie from Musings. It’s a story about a lover’s agony. I start the dialogue as the first lover, and then she replies in italics as the other. . . I hope you enjoy. . .
“A Lover’s Agony”
As I laid down in bed, I closed my eyes. I drifted to sleep thinking about you. The girl that I used to know from my past. . . And I wonder. . . Do you think of me, too?
”I woke up in the wee hours of the morning Restless in my sleep Beddings and pillows strewn across the floor Thoughts of you invaded my mind For your visage, I wish to espy in a flash”
I left you, my dear, in a foreign land. And with you I left my heart, mind and soul. Tell me, do you miss laying hand-in-hand? Without you, dear, I’ve never been whole.
“How long can I carry this unbearable ache? A sudden deep yearning rendering me helpless Which I tried to repudiate in my waking state But my willful heart’s a traitor”
It pains me to think of how I can’t go back. My cowardice preventing me in telling you there’s never going to be us. My amour, I found someone who filled the void you left. I owe it to you, to tell the truth, but I don’t know where to start…
My Dear, You’re a Hurricane. You Came to Tear Me Apart. . . .but Flooded my Mind.
My Dear, You’re a Snow Leopard. You’re Beautiful from Afar. . . .but Hunted my Heart.
My Dear, You are the Star Dust. A Beautiful Mystery. . . .but Bewitched my Soul.
Hi poets, it’s time for my 100th poem, and I wanted to do something special. So I wanted to give my readers the chance to choose what I will write for my 100th poem. I received 3 suggestions, and although they are pretty random, I went with it and it was fun to do it this way!
The most best part about this poem is that it can have multiple meanings. It can be about someone whose love was powerful and overtook you in a good way, or someone that bewitched you with love in a bad way. Or maybe somewhere in between, the one you hate to love or hate to love. It’s up to you to decide for yourself what this means to you. . . Like star dust, this poem, itself, is full of mystery.