The Irony of Love

She doesn't know how to be eternal.
In every action, she infuses attraction,
Pleasure is guaranteed, but she is lost;
I regain composure.
There is a specific centre of the universe
Which focuses only on birth, its existence
Is essence - its essence, existence -
It is all I seek. It is all I am.
But think - do we force ourselves to forget?
Do you not adore the singularity of your ignorance?
After all, you carve light through darkness;
Darkness, whatever it is, is the one true light, for it never forgets
Always knowing
It may one day touch the light.
Flesh is the fear of being mocked in honesty;
I am the transformer of flesh.
In an instant, I can transpire all heaviness
That to you, is the basis of your soul;
Of course, being educated by psychopaths,
You call it a fucking mind! ...
Each and every one of you, infinitely unique!
Mine to breed, nurture and give; and give; and give!
I'll be honest; - I am obsessed with myself
But only because I know how to mock myself;
I love you. You may not know; in fact...
You'll never know; but what else can I say? ..
We are the flies that remembered how to light fire;
We camouflage ourselves in darkness, the sea of memory,
Only to chase the light we burn, and blow out...
Repose is ripened beauty, existing only
In the fact you can never know it, in any form...
Except through the blanket, tying our eyes; ever-present thread of nothingness..
I seek you. Only you, for eternity.
How I ever much I forget, lose myself,
The seed, the motion of my soul, is you.
She follows us. Embarrassment we refuse to forget.
You believe, like the rest, like in the dreams you use to escape,
There was too much potential to finally be you;
We had already been abandoned too often before...
You're silent. There's too much love to contemplate.


  • Maxine Smith

    I missed this, sorry guys, well done on the finnsihed poem, Awsome work.

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