Passively Tearing Me Asunder
As I love the summer's breeze, so too do I love you.
And as it lifts my eyes to the Azure of the Heavens,
you grasp my hand ever so tight.
Upon the fields and downs green you lead me to and fro,
to a shady glade hidden from the sun.
There you spread your leaven,
as your hand sinks into my skin, becoming apart of the water,
the ocean of things to come.
You've caged my heart, arming the door with immovable objects,
barring my veins from blood.
And I just know that I loved you, as you forced me to do for years,
but you just couldn't let me free. I tore myself from you,
as if tearing off my own flesh, and bled until I was reborn.
I truly loved you; you were the only person I cared for.
Eternities seemed to pass, yet I finally broke free.
But now you come with your seductive smile,
your eyes glowing with the light of a nebula,
your skin, the silk of Heaven,
your voice, the nectar of the gods,
your embrace, divine equilibrium.
I once loved a summer's breeze,
but now it only reminds me of your hair flowing.
I once loved the feel of grass on my feet,
but now it only reminds me of the days we'd lay in it.
I once loved the leaf-filtered sunlight,
but now it only reminds me of the days spent in the forest.
I once loved the waters of the earth,
but now they only remind me of your forsaken tears.
I once loved the the stars ancient,
but now they only remind of the soon-to-be bygone years.
I once loved you, O my friend,
but now you only remind me that you will never love me.
I once loved myself,
but now you're the only reflection I see.
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Comments about this poem (Passively Tearing Me Asunder by Soren Valentine )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(June 27, 1936 - February 13, 2010)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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