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The scorching flame of love
I fear the lovers of the world,
the knowers of life,
the one's who claim
all answers are found in rainbows
and fairtales.
If they knew anything—
and I mean anything—
their poetry would speak of beautiful thiefs who stole their youth,
their innocence,
and left them ashamed,
as costumes of lovers
worn and empty.
Who wants trueth
when lies will suffice?
Who wants to know
what you love today
may kill you tomorrow?
Who wants to be reminded
that you will—and need— to go back,
regardless of the pain,
again and again?
Because we are nothing
without scars,
nothing without
the scorching flame
of love!
© Whoreallycares
the knowers of life,
the one's who claim
all answers are found in rainbows
and fairtales.
If they knew anything—
and I mean anything—
their poetry would speak of beautiful thiefs who stole their youth,
their innocence,
and left them ashamed,
as costumes of lovers
worn and empty.
Who wants trueth
when lies will suffice?
Who wants to know
what you love today
may kill you tomorrow?
Who wants to be reminded
that you will—and need— to go back,
regardless of the pain,
again and again?
Because we are nothing
without scars,
nothing without
the scorching flame
of love!
© Whoreallycares
