Loves

Another poem based on the form of Thomas Hardy’s weathers (don’t worry, I’m not feeling this, I’m perfectly alright!)
 
Loves
 
This is the feeling romantics adore,
And so do I;
When Angels nibble and tickle the core
And hearts fly high;
And thoughts of all else just flutter away,
And the lights of the night brightly sparkle and play,
And the fool takes a ride on a runaway sleigh,
And insatiably craves the sensation all day,
And so do I.
 
This is the feeling discardeds detest,
And so do I;
When Demons take wing and claw at the chest,
And hearts scream “Why?”;
And light has no colour and all is bland,
And the pain of their name sears your brain like a brand,
And all that’s unsaid is just And And And,
And the miserable die in a desolate land,
And so do I.
 
 
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