The Sorrow Of Love Poem by Dennis Go

It was quite simple. I am
The one that desires feelings
More than the heart and mind can.
Obnoxious with words and things,
It will be passed on to me
By surmounting memory
Though the toil and wounds retrieve
What men can merely conceive
The word, as it was called: Love.
(Vague - that meaning from above.)

As the heart gently slumbers
Its vast, strenuous decay,
Out of it, feelings plunder
In lonely, desperate ways.
Only then will feeling jive
The reality of lives
With the sorrow of leaving
The heart guilty of being
Ostracized by seclusion;
Two souls deprived of union.