She was as beautiful as she was pure
In a world of lust she was love
But in a world of lust, love isn’t welcome
Being nothing but a tool to an end
She lacks this knowledge
And so longs and tries to be accepted
Giving out much and increasing the lonely space in her heart
None wishes to fill this void
Give her back what everyone deserves;love and joy
And it hurts,cause everyone loves her character
But none gives her any love to foster
People only thinking of her where desires arise
Or where paths cross and they put up a coy love disguise
But that emptiness needs to be filled
And now everyone frowns at her new attitude
An amalgam of ignorance, anger, depression
And a heavy cloud of spontaneous detestation,
The only companions in her vacant blue heart
The only pages left in her book of passions
And she enjoys the book even better now
Loving the beautiful noise of silence and numbness
Loving the escape of love and kindness
And the burning anger leaving her breathless
But this is not meant to be
A beautiful island now a beautiful mess
Her attempts to taste passion countless
Too busy giving out to receive,
And another beautiful creation is lost
All she wanted was to have a crowd
But the love never rained on her,it remained a hovering cloud
Her only fault is lack of patience
Patience on the countless others looking for another to hold on to
Countless others who long to no longer be an island

4 thoughts on “THE ISLAND

  1. Alfred Paul

    Where to
    When love and lust rides it queer
    Neither feels fill – neither is same
    That again, and again, the spaces remain the same
    Yet to (all) matter is: what is loved?

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