Fickle Love

October 15, 2008

What a tattered beaten fray you are

My dear so close and yet so far.

What cloak of blind self confidence?

What manner? What pretence?

Cherish you your sullen hope?

Your brow a blush to be.

A web of certain grasp.

You strike with fatal certainty.

Be kind to me when you mar my Hope

And kill and aim to strike.

For I can never be the one

To survive such a deprived Life.

Have you the mind to end me now-

With illusions of Happiness so fair?

For I find it hard to tread a step

For I was injured there.

I’ve seen your vengeful face you know

It’s seared in the spot that’s healing.

There kept untouched in Heart

I visit often the feeling.

When I kneel beside it scar

I shed a sigh for I know

That buried deep inside myself

The seeds your existence left grow.

-Tabitha Castillo


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