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    We were enraged and battle-hardened
    persons in the field of life
    But, when they first touched our hands
    and whispered – Love.

    We stood still, unable to react until we
    realized we were Pines
    Then aridity arose us only when they
    became
    Inconstant, Fleeting, Stiff and Stormy.
    And it was too late when we realized we
    were lost
    In a love, a nightmare that for the
    best solemnly
    Sank us in a bondage of reacting to
    smoke even in the absence of inferno,
    That weakened our perversion to watch
    them squirt in our hands.

    We wanted so badly to look inside their
    eyes
    And in silence, as if beauty was gawky
    to be swept in something deep,
    To even momentarily avoid the ache
    that has turned into something
    endlessly fantabulous.

    We collapsed in such tremendous wails
    Evenly and hopelessly unable to
    experimentally show how we feel.

    Albeit in hues of romance, we turned
    into poets,
    Those bastards who in an incessant
    curse attempt to write the beauty of a
    violin.

    Only when we realized their kisses
    weren’t flowers but swords
    And no matter the traces of our
    chords, we couldn’t even hum
    For we were too hollow to dramatize
    tribulation.

    What’s worse is,
    We suddenly knew all about how they
    moved
    How the sun bounces of their eyes and
    like romance,
    They became the name of our
    lamentations.

    Nothing bites hard as much as their
    admiration of our minds
    Because they use it as a yardstick to
    test and counter their level of guilt.

    It has been upon us
    From the first time we realized abysses
    are homes and we decorated
    That we won’t ever get over them, we
    simply couldn’t.

    There are those we never stop loving
    And even measuring our moving on is a
    cathedral fallacy,
    Because we want to see them drown
    inside us.

    Yet we love again, maybe more or less
    But they were people we wish we could
    still have.

    Now we know we are fools and emotive
    chimneys we cover
    While plummeting back into the
    battlefront – Always!

    We aren’t searching nor crying for
    them anymore but recollecting a past
    that will forever be our shadows.

    © Eddy Ongili

    Facebook: Eddy Ongili
    Twitter: @eddy_ongili
    For Those We Couldn’t Have via @theMagunga

    Eddy Ongili is Words Freak.

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    fozah

    Awesome piece you have here.

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