To Be Loved
He drank the sweet wine and the sour whiskey.
He lived the adventures and told the tales.
He did things that were hurtful and risky.
Yet, he loved her with all his heart…. and failed.
Nothing hurt as much as when she left him.
He sang all the sad songs of loneliness.
Traveled by trains, boats, and planes to find her.
Had his cottage and his car repossessed.
He begged her to recall their fire of September.
Their heads upon the softest pillow
but no one wept come late December
except a snow-covered lonely willow.
Blossoms cling to their vines
as Catawba wine clouds the mind
and a prayer crosses the brine
hoping she will change her mind.
He wonders in everything he sees
“Does she ever think of me?”
For loving her he was blessed.
She was the nearest thing to Eden
an angel, and giver of tenderness.
Yet all was lost, and nothing could be done.
He ended his life at the point of a gun.
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Author:
MendedFences27 (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2024 11:59
- Comment from author about the poem: It is what it is.
- Category: Love
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments4
I see a lot of this .. but often you just dont see it coming .. sadly enjoyed & muchly Phil .. Neville
I've seen a bit of this darker side of love myself. It was a total surprise.
Very emotive words Phil, true love can have this effect on people.
Andy
Thanks, Andy. I tend to emopte.
Incredibly sad, love can make people like this, sad yet beautifully written in imagery and emotion. 🌹
Thanks, Teddy15. Just exposing the darker side of love.
"does she ever think of me?" is my epitaph. Many succumb to the escape from such pain. Told very well.
Thanks, DW.I guess we've all been there.
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