Mehdi Chith Poems

Bittersweet memories, a crude reminder of what once was, to love was to rise, and to be loved was the cause, of such an experience our minds found it hard to comprehend, yet our heart, the casualty, far beyond mend. We find ourselves recollecting the past of misfortune, every waking hour a reminder of how we fell from light, to see their faces when we tire, and to sleep painfully at night. This pain is now beyond our rational, beyond the capabilities of any word, for a wordsmith cannot create love...
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Period of late, the moment of my surrender.

Tis the moment of late that I give in to this theoretical love of mine, theoretical in structure but methodological in intention. May I seek what is necessary to give me hope? Or shall I increase the longevity of my theoretical desire.
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