Love, Too Powerful To Be Real.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Comment what you think?? thanks!

Submitted: July 27, 2012

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Submitted: July 27, 2012

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Do you remember that wooden swing we use to have?

It was held up by sturdy vines,

Strong ropes attached,

That grazed your fingers,

And burned when held on to tight,

It was unable to be moved by the wind.

 

But the swift seat could,

Oh, how it blew,

Some days you got so high,

You felt like you were running into the clouds,

Those were bizarre moments,

But you recited them to me,

I am thankful for that,

Now I can remember you in peace.

 

But now I think back to it,

It was my own fault,

How can I remember anything in peace?

That day when I let you go,

I wasn’t just letting you go outside,

To play on that old, dangerous swing,

I was letting you go forever,

But now I regret everything.

 

The swing is still there,

 Hanging up by the vines,

Because, as you know my darling,

The swing never broke,

It was as strong as ever,

It was my own two hands,

That drove the knife deep into your heart,

And though the immense regret still lays in me now,

If you came back,

Oh, how I would do it again.

 

 


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