No Gaurantee

Love is no picnic, it's more like hell in a hand basket. It's ridiculous and reckless and I'm convinced that it's tragic.  It's both devastating and deadly when she leaves you where you stand. Cut open and bleeding because your hearts was in her hands. Now you're breathing just barely because loves left you broken. I guess the fire has burnt out, and the embers have quit smoking. And the feeling is overwhelming as it hangs in the air, above ur head like a cloud so black with despair. And you feel it because it's there and it seems so unfair. That love has stripped you naked, left you lost, hurt and bare. Bare as in barley, which is how you're getting by. And it's fair as in unfairly but still you had to try. So love is no joyride, it's just a wreck waiting to happen. It's a joke and here's the punchline: nobody's laughing. There's are no shouts for joy and nobody's clapping. Because love only destroys, it's divorce waiting to happen.  It's insane indiscreetly, it's a disaster made neatly, it's pain and indecency, its a massacre, completely. So please release me, if you cant trust or believe me. Then why try?  It's meaningless, or so it seems to be, love but it's not. It never was, we just thought,  it was something that it wasn't. What it was, it was not. So she loves me? I think not. She just left me, here to rot. So cold was the teacher, so cruel what was taught. So brutal in her ways, I guess our love was just a phase. Something we went thru, heart to heart,  the pieces fit, then fell apart. They hit the ground like broken glass, I guess our love just couldn't last. And it hurts to say but now I see, that when it comes to love, there's no guarantee.

Copyright © Anthony Clifford | Year Posted 2016

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