The creation

by Marco Pierre Black

A small poem written about love and the hate towards love when a jilted woman falls into it's grasp. The moment her lover leaves she returns back to her old ways and is once again portrayed as a "monster".

There was a small creation of love,

Lodged within my heart of hearts,

I couldn't quite let that small dove,

Spread its wings and fly free from the evil cage,

Entombed forever it was.

The sky turned to a faded grey,

The dove flew and was shot,

There was no love in his place anymore,

The sun faded,

Life ended with the final drawn, painful breath.

The trees let their leaves fall,

Onto the floor made of a thousand crushed bones,

Readying to be trampled into a powdered dust,

To be blown away into the black abyss,

Never to be seen again.

The germ of love wriggles in its binds,

Wriggles free of my blacked hearts chains,

The ice melts slightly when I see your face,

But the moment you leave and abandon me,

My heart blackens once again.

Love is now despaired and gone,

The beautiful fusion of love dies,

Cold and lonely,

Alone.