She was gone.
A kiss on my cheek from her was cold--
a farebad bid.
Like old Judas' betrayal of Christ's true love
She left all things raw--the renegades sword she used
to cut my heart alive.
A kiss is a dagger
Now the pressure of your presence--
a daylight and darkness, my doom.
Still struggling like an eaglet
on a test day by the beloved mother eagle.
The double--high and not behold the earth below
lest you fall, the double
So i should see, love--the double--and be kicked out, a third.
My very end, but i see you
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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