When Love was King – K.B

When love was King.

 

 

She would look at me
With tenderness,
Hair messed up
And a cheeky smile,
She was my sun.

She would look
At me with tenderness.
I ain’t sad,
I still love her.

She was the only
One who had nothing
To gain from me.

She never asked me
For money or a ring

Nor did she fantasize
On expensive things.

All she asked for
Were free and
Priceless stuff,

Most importantly,
My presence
Beside her, alas,

For I was often
On errands
To catch

Some stardust
She inspired

With her touch,
With her feathery
Thoughts,

With her words
That she set
Like a balm
On my often
Wounded
Heart.

She used to
Wish me good
( and still does)

But I,

Too concerned
With my dick,
Forgot about
Life and dialogue

As she did too.

She looked at me
With tenderness,

Our union
Was strong,

Love flowed
From us

Although
We’d often
Reject the
Fault
On our flaws.

Her hands were
Like paws
On my tired
Face.

She never challenged
Me

But she had troubles
To adapt to the world
After our encounters.

We needed a country
Of our own,

A land for ourselves

With our own laws.

That was when love
Was king.

She used to look
At me with tenderness
In our little bed.

She had nothing
To gain from me.

I loved her
Between
The hands
Of God.

We had our
Crisis’

But too few.

She got sick

But it wasn’t
Love’s fault.

As the fuel
Was going away,

Our relationship
Slowed down

But it wasn’t Love’s
Fault.

Our country was getting
Invaded by plague.

She used to look
At me with tenderness.

Our hearts are now
Sealed and tough

And I’m too young
And she’s too old.

I always thought
« That’s a woman for me  »

She still is
But I have no idea
About her.

She may be
Holding
Grudges
Against me.

But I’ll
Never forget the
Way she used
To look at me
With tenderness.

It was never
Love’s fault.

 
K.B

 

All rights reserved. 2019.

16 Comments

      1. As a muslim , it was tough for me at first to acknowledge the existence of Love beside my family. But then, it was like a prophecy. All I had read about the subject finally came true. And like all shooting stars, like any Romeo and Juliet, it ended up in a tragedy. I was living the play again.

        Aimé par 1 personne

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