Wednesday, 15 February 2012


Forbidden the words I may not utter
to speak of the sadness at seeing your heart
delighting in another, the smiles and the sighs,
the delicate touch and the sweeping glance.

Forbidden thrice, once the lover's tear:
to rend heart & mind ere causing its beloved pain
twice, the shame of knowing that what is felt, is foolish, is sour,
is not noble because nobly expressed

And thrice, since it whispers of possession,
and possession is what I dare never speak of you,
even were your heart mine, it would not be mine,
bound by a thousand silver cords, yet never iron

For were I to possess you, I think I would perish, drowned,
drowned in a torrent of beauty greater than I,
burnt by a sun no one dare tame,
a cup shattered in its filling

No comments:

Post a Comment