poetry

Dreary Truths

I could have been relieved had our paths never rested like the twine on the string of destiny.
I could have been relieved if, despite our fated encounter, we never split like scraggly hair.
I could have been relieved had my gaze been enough to read rather the words that consumed our time.
But with every flow there must ebb and like an oncoming tide this will recede.
Forts in multitude prove futile to the lone horse upon which you gallop, charging at my defenses.
Forlon be this land of sand. Land once upon my command. Now am held by you on remand upon this land.
Relief is not a freedom song yet I yearn to rip the shackles as if it were my heart, one proven to be susceptible to damage of all kinds.
A brittle piece lost in the recesses of the silky scarlet flowing like honey.
Only laughter can bring ease when paired with a state perfected by Sir Thomas More.
The absurdities he relates like a young man anguished over the Mighty Aphrodite.
The absurdities, the bible I devote myself to religiously, the pope of salvation. Catch me not in a frown I implore.
Catch me in deathly laughter, the joyous grim, my release.

Daily prompt Relieved

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