Sinking Lantern

She was a pretty poetry,
Stung with venomous verses.
Her eyes were smoking fire.
Her heart was weaved in tornado.
She knew not how to disperse it.
She didn’t have to.

Her hope was a sinking lantern.
Her soul was inking silver.
She floated through despair
Where lows and highs were a constant truth.
She knew not how to contain it.
She didn’t have to.

She chased love,
Unbeknownst,
Love chased her.
She tamed love,
Unbeknownst,
Love tamed her.

She was a pretty poetry,
Stung with venomous verses.
Her smile could change the world for better.
She just kept forgetting that.
She chopped her hair to look ugly.
She failed to do that.

She didn’t dress. She distressed.
Wrapped in sheets, she often bled.
She failed to sleep through the nights.
She kept losing all the fights.
Broke all strings; ripped her wings.
She didn’t have to do anything.

She chased love,
Unbeknownst,
Love chased her.
She tamed love,
Unbeknownst,
Love tamed her.

Oh, she chased love,
Unbeknownst,
Love chased her.

She only had to turn.

Brooke Shaden Photography
Brooke Shaden Photography
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5 Comments

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  1. I always thought love was rather one-sided. The ones I wanted never wanted me, and the ones I didn’t want wanted me too much. I feel your poem captures this idea.

  2. Simply Beautiful… plus, the choice of featured image is thoughtful too.

  3. One of my favorites from you.

    Absolutely loved these lines:

    “She was a pretty poetry,
    Stung with venomous verses.
    Her eyes were smoking fire.
    Her heart was weaved in tornado.”

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