It Hurts

I have been afraid to write of love lately. It takes away too much out of me.

Love is the essence of living. And there are days, which these days are most days when I feel it hurts too much to speak of love with careless abandon. I did so once. Perhaps even dared to do it twice. Once all was said done, I was left with a mere shell of my words. 

If I dab my pen too much into love’s ink, it hurts. It hurts when I speak of what I had. It hurts when I speak of what I don’t have. It hurts to look at my empty hands and I realize even my wishes have slipped through my fingers. 
© Romancing Life | 2017

Deceit

Greener Pastures

 

A Perpetual Dusk

I am always ready to sleep, 

winding down, 

weary from a life long struggle.

My shoulders are on the verge of breaking

weighed down by the weight 

of my life long failures,

head hanging down in shame,

disappointment.

So fault me if you will 

for not wanting to wake up.

Whirlwind

  

Seeds of Happiness

You plant a seed. You provide it with plenty sunshine and you hope for plenty of rain. You wait for life to grow. You watch the tiny seedling transform into a beautiful bloom. However, it is important that you do all this patiently. Take away patience or any one of the ingredients mentioned above, then you have left but a worthless plant with weak roots likely to meet its demise before it has had the chance to flourish. Think of your happiness the same way. Plant a seed. Nourish it with good deeds. Offer it contentment. Weed out the greed. Sow the seeds of happiness, dear friend, and watch the smiles grow.

Rest Assured

  

Strangers Again

“We were strangers once and now we are strangers again. I say goodbye only in the hope that we meet again… Sometime before we leave this mortal plane.”