Kicks may hurt, words may pain, there is nonetheless no agony as deep, as endless, as restless as that of thoughts, thoughts of a love alive, a love vibrant; which has from my sole willingly resigned.
A love not dead, no. For life is not as stunning as poets wish and sadness is beyond the cures that exist, and love, true love makes a lover die more than he lives
Nights after nights, starlights after days of incredible darkness, unbearable silence, sheer notingness and deep, deep, hard, violent emptiness; which I can no longer lift without the total power of your love that now, life, has irreversibly fleed
So please, my dear, I beg you my soul, my thrill, my all
I hope that during torturous nights you too will be taking a stroll
I hope that you will suffer from the same disease
I wish that you are woken by equally devasting dreams, that you are shattered by the same cynical beings
I crave that one day you'll have the courage to respond to my love's screams.
disease of love. good one. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very intensive impulsive radiance of love is seen here.Nice