For a flame is hard to tame,
“These violent delights have violent ends”,
naively thinking we had it all under control,
trapped in the vicious cycles of misplaced disdain and scheming games,
the third time round, I quoted Shakespeare when you held my hand.
Lying on the cold hard ground,
we found that I was strapped down by past lovers,
an abundance of three-leaf clovers, trapped hidden in high towers,
a flower wilting, always powerless in this routine.
I’m never good at aiming, but neither is cupid,
and I know it gets confusing,
some days you’re begging to feel my lips,
other days I’m on my knees,
are we still friends? or more than that?
we’re always at polarising ends –
while you’re at the tip of the iceberg,
I’m drowning in the freezing cold sea.
Should I have just fled? thoughts of doubts circulate my head
like a dark cloud of fleas.
do you hear my pleas?
I’m trying so hard to not lose my poise,
am I a definite or just another choice?
I can hear your voice,
I’m not one that is worth your sacrifice.