I'm so sick of love poems
bleeding from my pen.
Because your face is all I see,
Time and time again.
Before you,
I'd gladly,
bleed my pen dry.
Writing about love,
So beautiful,
it'd make you want to cry.
Now,
I run away from,
the beauty my pen creates,
Because the love, that I loved,
Has changed,
And that frustrates.
The love I knew,
Completely evaporates.
Now you are the only thing,
My pen illustrates.
It bleeds for you,
And deeply,
to my soul it irritates.
Because this love, your love,
Has the power to,
Captivate, dominate and completely annihilate,
Me.
So I sit here and wait,
For love to dissipate.


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