Love

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  • Love

    Love

    my heart taps but a mortal beat,
    faint from love trodden feet.
    hold gently this tender bird,
    spare the cruel barbed word.
    softly kiss what’s bruised,
    my heart sorely abused.
    Love but a weapon for pain,
    deeply impaled leaving its stain.
    don't make promises you can't keep,
    my condemned heart doth weep.
    no lessons learned foolish heart,
    speared again with love's cruel dart.
    a time must come to give up trying,
    my mortal heart dying.
    spare me this foolish plight this living hell,
    this darkness I know so well.
    say good-bye I bleed no more,
    I wage this war.
    I harden my heart barren I leave thee,
    but even barren it doth not free me.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    nightangelgale’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Immortal 2
    Jester 0
    Love 0
    Autumn 0
    Archangel 0