Another poem

I wrote this in bed late at night in my red notebook with the “Autumn Brings Forth the Reds of Nature” cover.

 

Love is a dangerous dagger
dipped in sweet poison

its pleasure pierces so quickly
we don’t feel the pain

until later, when the ecstasy fades
and reason remains

the real love is this–
the ache of the pain
caused by the one you love,
tucked away in your heart,
and yet you remain.

 

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