by Serena W. Sorrell

 

The steady, rhythmic sound of
Water hitting cold, stone floor.
Sight gone dark, underground, and
A pain more real than lore.
A soul awakening scald.

The stream of droplets fall, my
Ev’ry thought they delete.
Drowning, still I’m in thrall to
You, demon of deceit.
Such treachery, unequaled.

Love. It has died too young. And
Love which stole far too much.
Love. A slip of the tongue. Or
Love which was your last crutch.
It all lies terribly bald.

I have traveled the world, and
Have seen so much wonder.
From fantasy was hurled, I
Recall going under.
My entire heart galled.

The water brings focus. The
Water considers me
A new, budding crocus. It
Heals burns of great degree.
Under the waves I’m hauled.

Water does not perish. For
It’s reborn constantly.
It teaches to cherish. All
Can be lost instantly.
A heart must not become walled.

Allow the dam to break. In
Time, the flood will recede.
You have made no mistake. The
Rain will bring life to seed.
Love may sting, make you enthralled.

But, love should be greeted. You
Must be willing to feel.
You might feel defeated. But
You must never conceal
Any love your heart recalled.

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