Poetry on love and anger – Enjoy, folks.
I dreamed of unrequited love:
Soft, glowing, shimmering and present –
I feel you no more;
It is as if you have disappeared, vanished and faded.
Were the days I dreamed of loving you –
Lost in my imagination you were
Mine to hold, to curse, to admire –
You were mine
I have felt every ounce of anger
oozing from my pores like melted honey.
Weeping the tears, warm and slow, of disappointment, chagrin.
I have swallowed the poisonous pill of guilt,
ingesting that internal suicide.
You are the mime-game I play:
The death of silent remorse.
Hot, searing honey,
as if melted by frying pan,
I am spilling over, vomiting the pain of familiarity.
Raging in my soul like warm honey,
beating in my chest like wicked rhythm,
clamoring in my toes like disease,
I feel my rage through and through.