Clive Winslow Poet Narrative

Why Cant You See

My sweet dark angle  why can you not see my face.
I stand befor you my words unmask  me yet you  question who am I?
Madness  can eat away at that which appears same.

In the arms of another you choose to confide.
Was he that which you thought I could not be?
Blind you are blind for I stand in plain sight yet still you cannot see.

I knew of him befor you ever said.
A taken man cant ever truley share his heart only
his bed.


Cruel are the ways of lovers bitter turn  the ways of passion.
For the fires flame can so quickly consume.
Playing with a fools heart tossing like a childs toy
across the room.

You are the dagger within my side.
I the willing victim  for it was within 
your darkness i did confide.

With every kiss I taste blood apon my lip.
Your eyes refflect innocence .
 But  the illusion of love is broken with the 
pain brought like the lash of a whip.

There is much agony in love.
Hates resides in passion.
My mask no longer exists.
Is it outta of ignorance or fear that causes 
you not to see?

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Carolyn Devonshire October 19, 2009 at 1:42 PM The bitterness of one betrayed comes through clearly in your words, Clive. Indeed, "There is much agony in love." It can be the greatest source of both happiness and despair. When reading "Hate resides in passion," I could not help but be reminded when as a little girl my big sister asked me, "What is passion?" I responded, "Suffering." She laughed and said that although it is often used to refer to love, passion can truly evoke suffering. Thought-provoking poem! Love, Carolyn

Michaela Payne October 19, 2009 at 7:51 AM Beautiful. And from experience I would guess? Beautiful, and true nonetheless. Keep up the good work.