Grave Danger

Pain of love.

Magnanimous despair:
love is a vast landscape
where life goes to die.
And life, whole as April sun,
succumbs to thirst and falls,
having become physique
sans skin, having become
burnt eyes.
The heart, once thrilled,
begs the hills
being ignored;
the soul, once
steady and plentiful,
bleeds amid inner fracture.
Optimism was, once, yet
now fades as sallow light.
Whole suffers in storm,
the quaking of half-person
riding relentless aftershock.
Love as endless landscape
where one assumes risk--
survival’s never guaranteed.
Broken pieces were
scattered.

24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
August 28, 2014