My Own Heart Is My Enemy
Each time I’ve loved, the wound ran deep,
A crimson truth I could not keep.
So now my heart, in self-defence,
Builds iron walls, immense, intense.
When someone stirs that fragile flame,
I whisper harshly, call my name,
And drag myself from passion’s shore,
To guard the ache I’ve felt before.
I scold the spark, I dim the light,
I shun the warmth, embrace the night.
Oh, what a maze of love and pain,
Where loss feels certain, joy feels vain.
Am I my foe? It seems I am—
I wound myself before you can.
And still, from every scar I bear,
A strange, fierce love grows stronger there.
Shall I once more embrace the fall,
And risk the shatter, lose it all?
For even if my heart should break,
It’s mine to lose, my choice to make.
And now I wonder, endlessly—
If meant to be… must still be free?
In playful hands of fate we sway,
Like toys upon her woven way.
In dreams that haunt and softly gleam,
Such visions stir—a waking dream.
Oh, destiny, if you are kind,
Let me slip through thy sleeping mind,
To see if there, the scene I see,
Plays out within the reverie.
Archangel, if your grace allows,
Unfold this truth beneath your vows.
Copyright © I am Possible | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment