Free verse № 39346
Wombs and wounds
Love is a pall bearer
Carrying the dead to graves
Mine are beneath trees
By soil, merlot and half smoked Marlboroâs.
Love is a promise
Woven from scarlet.
Mine was pure
Worshipped by a Goddess
Who healed my heart
To destroy it.
Love is a word
Its only definition is
Who it takes
Who it leaves
Who it breaks and
Who grieves.
I am a griever
The once believer
the broken,
the unspoken.
But most of all
I am unlovable,
Complex.
Dark.
Lonesome.
Sad.
Angry,
And left to think of four children
Who will not be calling me Dad,
Bastards make the best Fathers
And I am love's bastard,
Wanting a womb to sleep in
to feel warmth again
from a woman.
5 comments
Oh wait, this must have been an edit of something else. Fair enough.
Carry the living from fantasy
to fraternity.
Mine are beneath trees too,
by merlot and a farm in the hills.
Love is a new pair of shoes
he bought me
because "You are worth it."
worshipped by a stallion man
who healed my heart
fron a dagger's blow.
Love is a word
it's definition is
who gives it
who leaves it
who breaks it
who grieves.
I am a griever
an unbeliever
snatched to belief
broken, but spoken clean
unlovable
become loved
dark, lonesome, angry, sad
taken, given mouth-to-mouth
revived,
a womb to sleep in
to feel warmth again.
Stanza two - 'worshipped by a goddess' bit makes it sound like you worshipped her too; at least, that's how I read it.
Stanzas 3 and 4 - no problems.
Final stanza...I'm not convinced by the list of adjectives, particularly as you describe yourself as complex but then list some fairly simple emotions (very compatible ones at that, for a complex character I'd have expected some contradictions there).
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