Placebo Poem by Ibn Ali


She looks at me with virgin eyes,
My placebo, my perception of strength in weakness, my turpentine,
She knows best how to ignite my anger, then fan the flames, then extinguish it with with welcomed praise like desert rains,
Sometimes I think I love her,
When I see her. I'm sure I do,
Sometimes I draw the curtains but the rays permeate through,
Although the room's in darkness,
There's serene beauty in the hue,
I tell her what she means to me, repeatedly,
I'll give her what she wants at my expense, I'll be a miser to myself,
If it means my love will be my love and be with me,
Every pound's a pound well spent,
Hope is a poor man's wealth,
For the love stricken naivety's a symptom,
When in love, we forget to love in moderation,
And hate on the same basis,
Always a heavy heart pounds so hard it causes pain,
With no ears to take instruction or hear the voice of reason, no loyalty to logic, intellect is betrayed,
Love isn't blind, it's just too dark to see,
It's an eclipse of the mind,
How many smiles turn a lover into a fool,
Just one could be sufficient,
How could beauty be so cruel?
Tangerine dreams, still no lessons learnt,
If only the moth knew,
Parable eternal,
She looks at me with virgin eyes,
And they more than suffice,
She's my placebo,
My perception of strength in weakness,
My drug free high.

Thursday, January 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love
Ibn Ali

Ibn Ali

The Gambia
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