He waits at dawn with coffee in hand,
She calls at midnight with a reckless plan.
One offers roots, the other wings,
Both pull at the heart with different strings.
Do I choose the fire or the steady flame?
The whispered secret or the one who knows my name?
Love’s not a path, it’s a quiet war,
Between what I want and what I’m fighting for.
I stand between them, heart split in two,
Wishing the answer would just walk up and choose.
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Author:
ROSHI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 11th, 2026 13:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Such a dynamic in the game of love presented in this poem and so well done in metaphor after metaphor. It finishes well and is a fave
Thank you
You are most welcome William
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