Loves Content










Is love possibly like a wilted rose

trying it’s best to grow roots that

long to bloom.

Or is it given to change like

a weather vane twisting and

turning on the crest of winds

dating game.


Maybe it’s like the deepest

secret that nobody knows, a

bud within a bud of such

renown just wanting to

explode into sound like

a finely tuned instrument

found by two strangers

who were always alone.


Contented I let love rise

from within and underneath

it all found my folly turned

to hate and resentment for

love, so I let it die.


Then you came from I know

not yet where as you entered

my heart a mystery you

were there.

I stand obliged and awkward

to love you but I do thus content

I know of no other way but

to fall deeply in love with you.


You sleep beside me and I watch

your perfect form as your hand

lays across my chest and my heart

aches for more of you to always

be there as perfect as you are.


Oh how I’ve loved thee and been

despised with so many complex

twisted and stubborn prides

wanting always to take you

as my bride.


Is love that corrupt to disallow

me to be part of it though fleeting

it has been in my life.

Now I hunger for it still and will

until my dying breath and like a

sweet bouquet loves content in

my memory of you.


© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved

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