unfulfilled love - unrequited love - love relinquished - life unlived...
we all are gypsies of a sort wandering traveling through this life other lives space and time here there and yon on roads less traveled - this is a written and visual journal of my own travels - imagined and/or real - come along with me - we'll dance among the stars under the sun and over the moon - we'll share our stories of love around the campfire - come along -
14 comments:
Ah, yes I have been there. Another fine poem.
Melanie
what one wants, one must take. :)
I know that longing very well. beautiful poem. xo
another gem! So wonderful to have you back.
melanie - thank you so much for coming by and leaving such a kind comment - just left your place of beautiful words!! ;)
ah, yes, and i did, kay - i did take - but 'twas not mine to have and so i relinquished because i love him more than i had to have him - and i had/have to have him more than my own breath - does that make sense?
sisters in so many ways, glynis! ;)
i thank you, trish! ;)
As simple... and as honest... as it gets, Jenean! Beautiful!
Nevine
oh, there you are dear nevine! i've been watching your updates on my sidebar but haven't quite made it to your place yet - or really any other places yet - but will asap! trying to get past and through stacks of boxes and more boxes - even getting dressed these days is a real challenge - which box is which whatever in!!! :) but i thank you, as always, for your coming by and leaving such kind words for me, dear friend!
So concise, the question that lingers on the lovers lips…
yes, the question that surely lingers still, steppenwolf -
The answer is so simple though, harden your heart and build your eight fences... You probably won't be happy but... But this heart-wrenching feeling will stop tearing at your after a time.
Harden your heart till you feel you don't have one anymore. Why suffer?
If you still want the torment that goes with the passion of love, then nothing can be done, one day it will be your death.
Love is always, has always been a sad-ending story.
The Photographer Who Is Not
my dear photographer who IS - ah, but your words do sadden me so at times, sir! and i confess, yes, i must, must have the passion and the love - the passionate love - the all-consuming love - my spirit requires it - it cannot be helped nor do i wish it to be different - and of the hardened heart, never! it will never be so hardened as to not begin again, nor do i believe your protestations to be as strong as you might suggest, dear friend! ;)
thank you so much for coming by roger - and for always leaving such thoughtful little snippits!
Post a Comment