Confessions of a Heart at Trouble
There is a woman I love!
And there she is, a woman, who only God, could dare to imagine,
but I, to be hers, remained unjust and faithless.
For she is kind yet human, my devotion must be sin,
but I, to be hers, built a temple in ruin and regrets.
And there she is, a woman, who feared men, wore frocks to disguise,
but I, to be hers, became cruel and scarred.
For she is noble yet frail, my servitude must be lies,
But I, to be hers, laid a carpet in sand and shards.
Cultured by indecency, my dream of fear,
Nurtured by the fear, my longing to tear,
Blurred by the tear, my dream to fear.
I, vane and greedy, but to be hers, would pray the above,
As long as, there is she, the woman, who loves me, as I love.
A note from the poet
This poem, its conception, and its inspiration is a girl who I loved but couldn’t be with. She, now, remains a friend and motivation behind my poetry. I hope you liked it. Thank you.
