The Sights and Sounds of My Loves and Hates
Love is more a mystery to me than hate is.
It might be less a mystery as those who love me
But, most expose their feelings towards me when hindsight first becomes a friend.
The dust will wait for the rain to become more like mud
But, I would like to know other’s feelings before that day comes to me.
I have witness different kinds of hate before I learned the desired love from another
But, I have to endure the more common hate that has become more resolute.
I do hear the ringing of the bell that sound like the Lutton bell for love only repeated
But, it never seem to be found for me hear of its return.
If I now hear the bell for loves return,
I might think it is for or from the fire brigade instead for me.
There is a time for crocodile tears
But, they are less a substitute for the tears my pillow robbed me.
I understand love as in a Foreigner’s song on love
But, my witness upon hate is when my eyes got raped.
The enduring of these hates might be of remembering the real objects in a still life
And, the perishable items had already been discarded.
It is only because they were too decayed to enjoy their radiant beauty.
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