His love is a windy night. It calls to you, as you stare into the glow of its bright obscurity. From your window, it’s whimsical. It’s fleeting. But when you step out to embrace it, it chokes you. It races around you in a whirlwind that sucks the warmth from your burning soul. It leaves you drowning in dry air. It’s hungry for what it can never experience. So it devours, in hopes that it may live. But a love like this can never live; therefore, can never die. Because it isn’t love.
It’s a reflection. Like the sun’s light mirroring off the moon. His “love” is a backscattering of what shines around him but will never be his. A love like his is cold. It’s a hollow bottomless hole. And yet, he attempts to fill his glass heart that freezes any it touches. It even froze mine.
Mine no longer beats, or it could crack. It no longer flutters like snowflakes that mix with glittering stars as they butterfly kiss my eyelashes. It’s still. It's empty. It's dead, from the disease he put in me. Once completely poisoned, I was free from him. But I was also free from any other, as they were free from me. So here I rest, in a bed of pillowy snow, the only affection I’ll ever feel. All because I wished to bring love and light to a tempting darkness. But it took it from me instead.
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Jennifer David
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Comments (3)
Poison love- what a great topic. My favorite line was "It leaves you drowning in dry air."
Yikes, sounds like a cruel bas**rd. Great poem!
There are some important thoughts in the piece. It is thought provoking and a good piece for teens and adults to consider.