A question of Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

I wrote this for a laugh, which is why it’s so melodramatic. Was an enjoyable write though. Part of the ‘Questions of’ series of poems I started.

Submitted: July 03, 2018

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Submitted: July 03, 2018




‘Tis seen as a most wonderful thing,

Yet naught is truly so.

Love, be not magical,

Be but thorn pricks upon thine skin.

How long doth thine poison take to set?

An hour, a day, a week, a year?

No matter, not one is the same.

I met mine on a Tuesday, ‘twas lovestruck by Friday.

Damn her.

Her curse, haunts me still.

Damn her.

What hopeless fools we be,

And for fools love be.

‘Twas one damn bitch,

All to set this path of benign hate.

I feel it no longer,

No more that flutter,

No more the warmth.

For love it killed me.


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