Bruises & Roses Poem by Aaron Wyton Greenwood

So often Love is painted with Roses,
but I experience nought but Love's Bruises.
Fond memories of love, linger in my mind,
but regret overwhelms as the trust unwinds.

An impostor emotion, a treacherous token,
the ONLY emotion to render hearts broken.
The siren call of love; so enticing, so alluring.
But fools of us it makes; so deceiving, so beguiling.

Like shattered glass its remains cut and sever,
for what I once had, I'm left yearning forever.
What am I to subscribe to something so fragile,
when I bargain, test and neglect it's beauty all the while?

After the fire of loss, I have the ashes of what was.
I abstain the rebuild, for pain, for fear...just because.
Aimless without shelter I wander, I roam.
As time drips by, those morphed memories draw me back home.

Love is like amphetamine to me,
I'm lying if I say it isn't getting to me.
But here again I stand, sculpted fragile glass in hand,
Unlike the one before, but its scars help me to understand.

Love is a reward, a feeling deserving of a fight.
Out of the dark on which I blamed Love, Love was always the Light.
The mistakes are made, the penance is paid,
the cuts all heal and fade, the light of love pervades.