Love - a poem by C. Wain (re-post of 26th March 2018)


I would watch you as you are. Unbound. Free. 
I would hide in your hair. A still, miniaturized version of myself. I would sail on your eyes. Sleep on your lips. Walk down your quaking chest. Above you heart. Climb you tender breasts. And then, all again. Night after night. Dream after dream, cursing the moment it all vanishes into the cold breeze of reality.
My soul, I swear, for the chance to stay with you. Be with you. Lay with you.
Ought we not to live for love, to love and in love? Then let me love you, one soul to another.
I would unmask my being and tell you that I love you, most ardently. No more meat and bones, but transcending figures laying with our souls bare for each other to see. 
Stare into the abyss. No judgement. No voice. No sound. For that is love. The still prelude to bliss.
And then nothing. Leaving our souls bound in bliss, we descend back again into corruption. Letting the inevitable unfold, it feeds and disrupts the purity of our love, leaving a macabre and lustful shadow of its former self. No more passion. No more love. Only sorrow. Boredom. Hate. For hate is the darkest and final evolution of love. No sorrow without love. No hate without love.
But, we MUST live for love, to love, in love.
Aye, then let us stay here, in our ethereal forms, our souls bound by senseless material words I so shamelessly write on this paper of mine, making once again, the senseless… senseless, the ethereal… ethereal and love… love.


 (Patamu Registry Number: 81408)

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