PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I stand, seeing an open space, I feel dead.

Have all the stars I've wish on, become weary and fled?

Please Lord, send them back to mend a broken, lonely heart.

I lied to myself, denying love, now she has to depart.



Will her Romeo love her dearly, leaving me, a mere Cyrano pleading?

I cannot blame her for her choice or any false misleading.

It was all my fault, I tried to be Othello, brave and one of dread.

Shakespeare has put me to rest with his pen, my character is dead.



Is my love dead also, surely not, but I miss holding you near.

I weep daily, but I hope that your Prince Charming loves you very dear.

Will he give his life for you, as Romeo did, his cherished Juliet?

Or will he be as Henry VIII, a cruel son of regret.



My sadness weighs on me, has Caesar's spirit plagued me with fear?

I must rule my own destiny, might I inquire advice of King Lear?

He could never give me riches greater than the love that I lock away.

"Oneself is one's best friend." as Marc Antony would say.



Hercules, with his great strength, still cries, for a man still has a heart.

I wish each day into a false well, for her love, how pathetic thou art!

I acknowledge the great Cassanova, as not having love at all.

As for my many women, I've held them close, yet I always fall.



When each one departed, a piece of my heart went too.

I asked the great Zeus of what I should do.

None of the classic odes gave me a remedy for my pain.

I've cut out my heart, despite my chest, romance is false - no gain.