He sits in a room filled
With countless papers;
In them scribbled vain
love poems in all forms;
His heart is depressed
For such is foreign to him
And indeed he is not impressed;

Through a window he sees
But happy couples
Two by two – doubles;
Another three if a child be
So that’s a triple;
However alone he may be
He smiles as though love he never needs.

In his mind he sees his own lover
Whom he cannot be with
Due to certain critical circumstances
That his own mind cannot dare explain;
In this unexplainable torture – pain
Is but a best friend to himself again….
What then shall he from this gain?

Though tears may run on his
Calm and polite cheeks
Like a never ending-pouring waterfall;
Still in black shadows of hurt
Caused by ceaseless love-torment
To him this is but a beautiful

One that he can endure.


Stay Blessed : Dee 🙂


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