PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What is love?
Do we really know?
What's it made of,
How does it show?

I contemplate,
As of late,
of things I wish I knew.
Love and trust,
And life and lust.
But mostly, I just think of you.

I do not understand the world,
Or the things which lie within.
The mysteries I HAVE unfurled,
Have spread my patience thin.

I've tried and tried
To make things right.
But, do you even care?
I feel alone
and on my own.
But you are free from doubt?
Is it fair,
That I still care,
And you go on to scout,
for new love and life
Free of aches and strife?
And I am by myself?

I care for the wrong man,
Every time.
And No matter the case,
They are never truly mine.

Am I just a tissue,
Disposable and used?
Is THAT the issue?
That I'm damaged and bruised?

Please, I'm begging,
I've no one left.
The heart you stole,
Is no small theft.

Now, I am an empty house,
No creature within, not even a mouse.
I'm broken and hopeless and beaten up bad.
Maybe I'm meant to forever be sad.