A Lonely Rhythm And A Smoke Of Your Drag

A Lonely Rhythm And A Smoke Of Your Drag
What do you think did exist between us? Love. Was it?
Love is mythical, my love.
That which was there between us,
Was just a smoke of your drag
Took seconds to subsume into the thick air
I have even withheld visits to the graveyard,
Where I buried my love;
For you,
For life I had conceived for us,
Buried for eternity.
Life is a lonely rhythm; beating alone with lost hopes and chimeric desires
Turned trite, with inclinations short of explicitness
Was this predestined of life when sired?
Life was supposed to be vivid with prolific measures of happiness,
Surrounding and expanding across the universe
And mostly, standing tall even in despair
It lacks ultimacy.
The galling soreness of dead loss,
The resentment between two souls,
That were once fond of each other and exchanged promises
Of eternal love,
Till death do us apart vows,
Did fail to cognize the true essence of life
Failing to decipher the myth of love.
Love now rests in peace,
In the graveyard behind dark crevices
Of snobbery and conceit
Buried under amour propre.


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