Stolen Water

Under the cover of the night,

Where there is love, dark and depraved,

As the saying goes, water is sweetest when stolen,

Unfortunately, what isn’t sayable is the price one pays.

In the name of one’s pleasure,

So much trust is broken, and so many hearts are burnt.

Human beings have taken the heedless thrill of chase too far,

And one wonders, who are these people waiting at the end?

So eloquently hidden from the world,

What we shy away from, or perhaps dance around, is the guilt we cannot escape.

The love’s ever so void cup of deceit,

Battling why they always feel like they are unwhole.

Fingers touching tenderly feeling their loveless halo,

And in bursts anger.

Exploring through these tangled webs we call dreams,

Cutting through their being to the truth yet unformed.

As the laughter showcased blurs masked pains,

One thing remains certain. Stolen water is and forever will be sugary sweet.

In these fragile strings lies opaque beauty longing to be free.

So locked behind undraped eyes here lies penned to anger’s cruelty.

But isn’t love should turn sunshine into shadow?

What people wonder so much independent symbolically lingers?

As rebel scum shatters lies, alone together uncovered lies.

Thankful enough to play the role of true manipulator behind the jeweled crafted earth, almost known as the one.

Life shows its ever daunting fangs, so written diaries are often overlooked,

Damaged beauty fuels crying boundlessly on silk.

When lapsing shifts trick expect without expecting beyond towering great walls, the world takes a swift turn.

And uncongressed changes leave delightful elegance and silk veil exploring eternal weakness.

The Pen That Never Runs Dry

A Writer’s Lab