Burnt Out Love
Misplaced.
The love that lost itself.
That fell for the glitter in his swimming pool eyes,
And pounded breathless down the path of no returns.
That getting none, despised itself.
The love that ran that route as if all terrors trailed,
So fast it ran.
Small wonder that it stumbled,
Running blind.
On and on, till the very running ached.
Or that it didn't last,
The glorious sprint which started such a pace.
And all would say, who saw the off,
"They'll run forever"
And never know that borrowed power ebbs.
That all who run to win and keep the prize,
To keep the glory, not the empty husk,
Would sooner run legless, or tethered,
Than burn out in their prime.
A foolish fever, that made it start so fast.
The love that lost itself.
That crossed a road and killed its shadow,
And died.
Aviva Rifka Bhandari
Fri 18th Jun 2021 00:36
Thank you for commenting Nigel and Moon.girl
There's always the potential for losses to be turned into gains, not always of the same thing that was lost, and only with the right attitude and actions. I'm not sure whether things that happen are meant to have happened or not, but either way it doesn't stop us trying our best (unless it was meant to). I like the image of ashes being washed and swept away by the ocean.
There's a lot of word and concept play in this poem, even starting with the first word, misplaced, which can mean lost or can mean put in the wrong place, and here means both.
Thanks also to everyone who has clicked 'Like' for this poem