The Fragility of Love
Lovers, in their tender hours of closeness,
When love is breathed in warm, whispered sweetness,
With smiles resplendent, budding fair as blossoms,
Joy arose immediately, boundless in its measure.
It seemed divine in dreams, and soft to the soul;
Even by day, it trembled the heart at his approach.
She too is inflamed with delight like a fiery, folded scroll –
Their veins aquiver for a graceful morning touch.
It’s hurting how feelings drift, tide-like, in the heart;
How in a glimpse, revulsion pierces the nerves,
Siphoning the joy, till breakups kindled from sharp retorts,
And only silent scars betrays where love once served.
Then quarrels rose, enshrined in those deepening rifts,
Begetting solitude, which afterwards – is unveiled sorrow.
Love’s smiling breath withdrew – like a fleeting wraith –
Dimming the rooms once warm, as light turned hollow.
Some claims, love was set to be purified in contention,
A trial of truth – perhaps, though denied of pure intention.
Yet still, we yearn for love to bloom with a pure reflection,
With steadfast shields against fate’s vicious direction.
Trials if endured, embroiders the heart and grow,
With rooted joy from strife – without courting its woe.
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