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What is it really?
June 23, 2015
Is it called poetry, If I bleed this pen dry, scriblling her name on the paper, over and over?
Or is that obsession?
Is it called love, If her beautiful face appears in my head again and again?
Or is that insanity?
Somebody, please explain this feeling to me!
Is the feeling inside a hidden beauty to cherish?
Or is it a tormenting burden to bury?
Love. An enigma which denies me my wish...
Oh, If only love were as simple as this.
© Sarah C., Hillsdale, NJ
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