Saturday, September 18, 2010

Tell Him

Attractive roses,

mere things yet the thoughts.

Slowly he descends,

embracing your heart.

Speechless at his gaze.

Your face, he adores.

A pang of remorse,

as pleasure consumes.

Never can you have,

a love that is pure.

Never can you look,

at a lover’s soul.

Such sincerity,

pity to let go.

He deserves the best,

the love of his own.

Alas go on tell,

before he falls more.

Your devoted heart,

not free anymore!

Copyright *Phoenix Montoya @ September 18, 2010

More sad poems by this author:

Why Do People Die?

Is It Love?

Ice Queen