by Ron Carnell
I write of love and loneliness,
Amidst my years of emptiness,
And wonder where the wonder went,
Because these things I know.
I pen lost words of happiness,
Found in the arms of loveliness,
And wish my wish were never sent,
Because she told me no.
I kneel below the loftiness,
Enraptured by my dizziness,
A victim of my swift descent,
Because I fell so low.
My rhymes have all turned venomous,
To twisted words of dreariness,
I hate the hate I never meant,
Because I hated so.
Yet still I write in artlessness,
Of feelings felt in happiness,
Of times past time I ne’er lament
Because I can’t let go.