The Dying Love

The dying love

The dying love

The merry go round on a pegged hole is
Jerking up to the rough road of oblivion
The flame that started since early days in love
Is gently dancing away with the wind
Enthusiasm of a suckling mouth is slowly
Weaning-off as the breast-milk sours
The good felt feelings gradually peels off
Shedding scales like reptiles fleeing a predator.
Now, waiting for a time when the later tears of Joy
Shall cleanse the former tears of sadness

 

 

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