Little King of Sorrows
Yes Or No, Sort Of, Maybe, Patiently Waiting, Of Someone, Who May Just Love To Hate Me. - Poem by Little King of Sorrows
So wouldn't you know it,
I'm not the worlds greatest poet.
Swimming in a sea of emotions, feeding an ocean of words.
I'm drowning in it. I'm bounced off waves of inertia and slammed into rocks of shattered dreams.
Washed ashore to beautiful islands occupied by many beauties. I see her face among the crowd! My heart beats in anticipation. As I start to venture forth, stronger the beats flow... pitter patter pitter patter.
And as I get close and in reach, so close to achieving my ultimate happiness and my dream of all dreams, the beauty faces me. It's not her. A beautiful, lonely, and determined angel in her own right, but not the apple of my eye, not the prize I desire. Inside again I burn with fire.
She dances in the shadows. I swear she is here. But the ghosts of hopeless romantics lead me here an for an hour, another a day, and it feels id best just turn away. Close my eyes and let the tears consume my being. I drop to my knees and weep for a spell, but only when alone in my pillow cave in the darkest hours of the night. Why do I feel like this? God I ask of you, you give none more than they can handle. I believe this so true. But why would you have me burn in longing so hard, and be patient so long for not? Is there something around the been I can't see? Is it my mind playing tricks on me? I see messages of scorned woman, of which there is nothing worse. They stab me in the heart. They paralyze my feet. What if from her? I would leave in a heartbeat if for sure. I claim this in poem and prayer that the door is closed gently. And at night I lay dead of direction of love. Not of my mind, not of my purpose, and see where your calling is taking me I have no doubt. And as if I am a pinball machine I feel pain in many areas. Balls of pain bouncing here there, staying for a moment and falling away. And the main bumper, my heart, is the most commonly hit target.
I wake up. Beautiful new day. Maybe love will flourish within the walls of these hours. For me, I accept what I cannot see, maybe something different is ahead for me. But that is not who I think or wish to see. When I thing of heavenly, all-accepting, and undying desire of the purest and strongest love known to mankind, within my mind, .... its her. So much for my new start, new day. I put on my captains hat and set sail amidst the storms and seas of poetry once again. FOOL! ! ! I hear the winds call me. FOOL. I see the glares in my direction. FOOL. I can see in the silence of presence in the lives of friends who I use to talk to daily. I know they love me, they be my friends to the end. But the one I lost was that kind of friend. But more. Molded special by the hand of God, with a little more time than he usually does, for this kind of friend would have to be of Divine Creation to stall me like this. To tear me like this. To invade my oneness hopes like this. A special lesson that has made me search deeper the depths of my soul than even I thought was possible. And I have traveled to depths unknown by most common men.
This will by me a couple seconds of hope, lead me to a couple minutes of peace, but nonetheless, I will be back here. After my rest on shore of family, I brave the sea again. Another stormy night I know lies ahead of me tonight. My body racked by the toss and turns of insomnia and heartache. And I will pray for death as I let my vessel go amidst the early dawn. A brief visit in my dreams I will sometimes get. Picnics, Dances, Serenading her my truest heart song that I physically am unable to produce but feel. We will embrace in the flaming hug of adoration and appreciation and just hold. Tears of joy, tears of thanks, tears of ' yes I understand'. And I will awake just before I bend on knee. UGH! ! ! NO! ! ! I squeeze my eyes and bury my head and scream in heart. COME BACK! ! ! My love, my honeysuckle, my perfect sunset, my #1 fan, my best friend, my everything, please come back. … …. …. …. ….
GONE. AGAIN. Eyes open wet again. Eyes open to this hell again. Cycle begins again. All hurt, all pain, all beauty still dead. Why did I choose to sail again? I don't have the sea legs for this. Nauseous I puke my dead strength on this paper. Pain is good yes. I thrived on pain. I relished in the fires of desires and scoffed at evil snakes that have embraced my life. They bite at my tail and sometimes they catch a piece of me. But like a lizard I regenerate and all grows back eventually. Till now.
No more expectations. I can not cage myself like that any longer, as free we both must be. If you care, or ever did, or ever will, my plea is this......
If you sail these sees, sound a horn for me. If your short on crew, come ashore and I'll board your vessel and we will sail to destiny. If you are a pirate, take what is left. You left my deck bare of goods, but finish the job and take the rest.
Who would have known it, I'm not a poet. So here it is. I still love you. As a friend I have come far enough to separate myself and be fine as a support shall you need one. I am still capable of being in love with you. No love song could do justice of what you could be to me, and I to you. I'm a jukebox of serenades, wedding vows, puppy loves, rainy day dance, eyes of hunger, and loyalty of only eternal capabilities. It's natural, it's what you are to me, and of all my years of practices, all my years of unlucky endeavors, its you! ! ! And it always has been.
If I am wrong, I will live wrong. Please do not fear, I will not chase, I will not invade, I will not steal you away from what your heart deserves. So if you love me, if this bliss is thought of me and you up high, and the end of the tunnel is met by us walking hand and hand in the warm sunshine on roads paved of gold, I need a sign. OBVIOUS sign. If you do, make it a few. I will respond in everlasting nobility and speak the truest conveyance of what my heart and soul long to say to you. If wrong, I will take my heart, cracked in half, with me into the battle of battles. Till the Day of Armegeddon, Till the day of sorrow's demise. Today's not done. Tomorrow ain't here, And yesterday has gone dead on me anyway. You know the Drill: -) bit : -)
© 2013 L.K.Sorrows
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Yes Or No, Sort Of, Maybe, Patiently Waiting, Of Someone, Who May Just Love To Hate Me. by Little King of Sorrows
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You