Poets are those who love,--who feel great truths, And tell them.

December 15, 2007

Again

by Anonymous

We’re falling back in rhythm to comfortable love,
Maybe we’ll find a place in this world, and above.
Desperate thoughts pierce thickening air from each breath we took,
First touch was a miracle, it was love at the first look.
We tried to succeed, but misery was the winner,
The days turned dreary, happiness thinner.
Forgetting was a mere though, impossible at first,
For you keep drifting back to me, like an incurable thirst.
Seeping through shadows and disguising as pain,
Love for the boy who broke my heart almost drove me insane.
Foolish is chance, was empty-handed as luck,
They say you don’t get another try, so you stay closed, like buds.
Blooming looms far in the future, only time will tell,
If we’ll try again, or if we’re doomed for hell.

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