Tragedy

Oh what a tragedy it is, 

to love and be loved. 

For there is no way for us to avoid the inevitable pain, 

that lies in the near future for us both.

My love, 

what a tragedy it is. 

The uncertainty of it all. 

The love. 

The lust. 

Hearts yearning for one another. 

Bodies craving.

Both wanting to feel in a way the other can't possibly describe or begin to comprehend.

Both doomed to the anguish and suffering of a broken heart. 

The two feelings so different but so much alike that it feels no different from the other anymore.

How are we to simply mend our shattered hearts. 

To make it whole once more. 

How must we take something that is almost seemingly unrepairable, and makeit look as though it was never crushed to begin with. 

As if it were a little scratch, or even a minor crack. 

When all we have is the glue, our love, to rely on to keep every fragment intact. 

We are foolish enough to believe that this could hold, through all the elements that are being thrown at us. 

As our love melts away, so does this glue that our our pieces together for so long. 

Exposing the holes where little fragments once were, exposing the emptiness in our hearts. 

Empty, hollow, and without purpose anymore. 

An absence of love and emotion. 

Giving us no real purpose to be together much longer. 

Bringing us both to an end, and that my darling, 

Is the tragedy of love. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741