The end of love is like a knife
that pierces every soul.
And yet I know that some in life
assume to circumvent the strife.
But also true, when love grows old,
the embers of our passions fade.
The frail defense against the cold,
is just a fiction I was told.
The end of love is frigid steel,
a painful blade that all may feel.
This poem is so well written. Very well done and thanks for sharing :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just great. This is fabulous. Beautiful as well as poignant, this one makes for an awesome read. A sure 10.
Thanks for the read, the comment and the 10.