A poem
Love as a pointed finger
A hand beckoning furiously
Love as a knife, carving
its way through niceties..
Love as a mask covering for
a multitude of deficiencies
Love for love’s sake
Love at love’s wake
At the death bed of all illusions
As time goes by...
Withered flowers clearly forgotten
Neglected by selective memory
Long hours spent in the dark
Feeling hopeless, seeking remedies
Anything
Anything but love.
Posted by Biljana P
