Because I have realised that poetry achieves nothing
And that I have slaughtered my heart with poetry
And every time a new poem is born, I die a little
I have sworn to write no more
* * * * *
Because I have realised that poetry is devastating, like your love
For both lift me at times to the zenith
And at others toss me into beds of thorns
I have sworn to set myself free,
To tear up my dreams,
To crush my pens,
To banish love
And to lay a bed in my eyelids for sleep ...
I have decided all this
Yet, I am still entrapped.
I continue to weave the words
And my heart still hovers around your bewitching beauty
And yet I continue to dream
Of plucking roses without thorns
Oh for my poems and for your love!