The Penalty of Love
I die at the feet of love’s lynch man,
and once deceased, I drag my coffin
up from the dungeon keep
and into Heaven’s blight.
I cast away fears of a decadent past,
in replace of sweet salvation,
and the hope of a solitude
from the touch of antagonism’s plight.
What woe would dare deteriorate
happiness everlasting, in exchange
for a declaration of something
far more sinister? The lips of a lover
produce a kiss that could beautify the darkness,
and bring light to the corners
swept up in hesitated misery.
But even then, angst and err
are ever powerful, and their allies,
in the darkest pits of the netherworlds
are rarely ever cast out into the light
from the balconies of Heaven’s domain.
There are no heroic protagonists
who could save the day,
and with a tap of the trigger,
they all but disappear,
for their words are as hollow
as any empty promise can be,
and instead fill the heart with further sorrow.
There is no candid mutuality;
there are no happy resolutions; there is no final kiss
at the conclusion of this verse,
for only the fickle silver screen
is capable of such derogatory slander.
The world is but a bitter place, and the movies make it more so
with their continued falsity,
and if I had the point, in their place
I would unveil the truth, regardless of how excruciating.
I truly wish the arms of another
could wrap me in eternal love,
but only the ignorant, yet to be burnt
by such brash defeatism,
believe such an unholy scam.
A hundred times my eyes have fallen
upon a potential dream boat,
and a hundred times, the treacherous betrayal
of a life unkindly, has left me with little else
but the broken promises of my heart.
So, with these words writ, I acknowledge the insignificance
of my place within love’s plan,
and the unabashed anarchy my heart shall surely face
forevermore, until the end.