To Trust
7th September, 2015 Writers
Wonder is not felt without a foothold for pain,
hope taps at a weighted bell in the
chest and rings a tone of ache,
love dances on ribs across a pensive heart;
yet to awaken under rays of light or between the whispers of the rain entrusts another chance
to hope again.

but all those things were nothing but
illusions performed by myself
and hosted by the need to feel
the need to hold love in my arms
and not let go
a perfect, plastic love

so when i reopened the box sealed by tears
that we all have deep inside of ourselves
un-admissioned pain leaked out and burned my fingers
when my eyes once more touched upon her flowers
that i now came to realize they were plastic
nothing but an identical copy
of the real thing

it was all fake..
Lagos, Nigeria
  • Not sure about this one at the time i thought it was decent... what do you think?

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