To Love Her So

He loved her so.
And so he felt a need too deep to grow.
A need that swept him off his feet.
A need to make her go away for good.
And there, upon the brink, he stood,
unguarded by the mercenary links
of everyday. And so he fell, too deep,
into a self-created hell of love's despondence.
Realizing, all too well, the part he played -
intrinsic - yet too well relayed on the verge
his tragic presence brought to be.

Ah but now, he loved her so.
And so he blamed her.
For every tragic moment
he'd devised between
the two them. Surreal,
the vines of time and space
intruded into spaces left unfound.
While round and round, his mind
was twirling. Whirling in the motions
of a love conceived in potions -
never warned.

He knew that when he left her there,
the shadows of his life would haunt
the atmosphere she lived. And yet,
somewhere along the line, he had
decided that he really didnít' care.
The most that he could gather then
was just a slight relief from the inherited
proportions of his genes.

For she was merely shadow-play for him.
A wish, a want, desired yet always
kept at bay, till now. How was it that
he'd melted in her arms...? Reviving
charms of innocence - for too long past
the days of his intrinsic and yet duty-filled,
insolvent state of destiny denied.
And so he lied to her. Attempting to
achieve a destiny he'd never earned.

While there, within her arms,
his future spoke in reams of paper -
plotted out in dreams he'd never dared
to make come true. His sense of feeling
was renewed, somehow, in her.
Then came the blur.
Past claiming that the future
was unclear. The fear, the doubt.
The awesome clout held dear.
He still could not imagine
that his heart had been held dear
by just one other.

And so he followed what he thought
he knew. The neediest must be the one
he chose to hold most dear. The one
who drove him to those other arms.
He could not stand the thought of harm
to her, the one he vowed he would
uphold through present dangers.
And so he lapsed into the past again.
Destroying more than just the love
begun between the sheets of her
and him.

He loved her so, or so he said.
And yet he felt a need too deep to grow.
A need that swept him off his feet.
A need to make her go away for good.
And there, upon the brink, he stood,
unguarded by the mercenary links
of everyday. And so he fell, too deep,
into a self-created hell of love's despondence.
Realizing, all too well, the part he played -
intrinsic - yet too well relayed on the verge
his tragic presence brought to be...

? Michaelette ?

12/12/04
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
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