*I'm still the same lovesick fool,
I think when we're in love,
we're not able
to make good decisions.
For those who loved
and lost everything in a single night,
it's hard to say, some take flight,
hiding behind something out of sight.
Others accept and move on,
others shy away from love, withdrawn.
Some grow immense sadness inside,
others let hatred be their guide.
While a few, in their gloomy despair,
just feel the need to break everything there,
taking out what wasn’t love,
in poetry, a painful shove.
Antipathetic feeling,
bitterness from this drink,
I don’t know, it seems the color’s shrinking,
and the end has begun, the words are sinking.
The poetry begins to fade,
I don’t know what to write,
in truth, I don’t know what to feel,
I’m usually loving,
enough to be a fool, so real.
But maybe being a fool has its worth,
for in love's folly, there's warmth on this earth.
Even when the world turns dark and cold,
the heart persists, refuses to fold.
In poetry, I find refuge and peace,
where words heal what love can’t release.
And as time goes by and the pain subsides,
I keep writing, nourishing what inside resides.*
