I used to write beautiful poems
Before life would chew me up and spit me out.
Pure visions of love and spiritual connection
Came easily to me and blossomed on the paper.
Now my words are muddled and the images are blurry.
There are smudges and stains on my scrolls
Even in the presence of Love herself.
She is a little worn out, her clothes don’t fit so well
After yo-yo dieting on what-ifs and empty promises.
Love’s hair is washed and brushed
But undyed, uncurled, unstraightened, unsprayed.
She’s just a little tired—not yet jaded but fatigued,
Not yet out of hope but resigned that it might not work out.
She won’t despair anymore, but she’ll shed a tear every now and then
In the nostalgia of who she used to be,
Of the places she’d go or dream to visit,
Of the people she’s loved with all her heart.
© 2021 Lola Sense
~~~
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Lola Sense
Poet and writer of steamy stories. If my work tickles you the right way and you want to support me, feel free to buy me a coffee to keep the sexy stories coming!
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Comments (1)
Really enjoyed the way you told this, not jaded but fatigued. That’s a relatable idea. Great descriptions and visuals in this and all your work!