A Poem

In dusk's quiet, when shadows creep,

Two darlings murmur privileged insights profound,

However inside the gleam of their look,

Prowl gleams of uncertainty in a fragrant murkiness.

What used to be entire, a brilliant circle,

Presently fragmented shards mirror their apprehension,

For affection, however sweet, can quickly harsh,

A transient bloom, once in blossom.

A delicate touch, a sneaked kiss,

However under lies hurting euphoria;

For trust, similar to glass, when easily cast,

Can break quickly, broken quick.

Words traded in energy's bondage,

However quiet falls, an unnoticed call.

Guarantees made with intense breath

Presently reverberation faintly even with death.

Every heartbeat races, beats race,

In the tangled dance, they follow,

The lines of happiness, of torment, of tears,

The unpleasant chorale of past years.

Underneath the grins, the giggling's glimmer,

Lie quakes of a broke dream.

Once held close, presently far off, far,

The injuries concealed, a neglected scar.

For adoration, in its substance, is a delicate string,

An embroidery woven where many have drained.

It sprouts with enthusiasm, however may likewise shrink,

As hearts explore the vestiges they've fabricated.

The flames might consume, yet cinders remain,

Remainders of warmth laced with torment.

In yearning's grip, they quietly sob,

For adoration's hallowed commitment, presently covered profound.

However even in brokenness, excellence lies,

In the remainders of dreams that touch the skies.

For through the breaks, new light might stream,

The beginning of trust, waiting like a fantasy.

From pieces lost, new stories might rise,

In the nursery of hearts, where love won't ever bite the dust.

However love might vacillate, waver it must,

In broke remains, we figure out how to trust.

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