Was it Love? (a poem)

Was It Love?

Oh, but can the pain of a burden so heavy as deceit

Be cleared away so easily

With the mere touch of a soft hand to a wet cheek

Or the mere whisper of a sensuous word to a closed ear?

A burden of such magnitude,

A burden of such deformed placement,

A burden of such seemingly occult origin

Must be a burden of an offensive and doomed destination.

To say it will resolve itself,

To say it can be at all resolved

Is to say that you believe in more than miracles –

It is to say that witchcraft and sorcery are at the root of your being

Or has lov been falsely used and accused

 A victimized self created deceit

In and of itself

throughout the duration of its unbeing.

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