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Love is a beggar
Everything
is meant to be lost,
from the calling card
you were handed with a wink
to the love letters
that made your heart scream and sink
Everyone
would come and go
leaving and passing through
your handcrafted door
When he left,
I locked it up,
swallowed its rusty key whole
Love
fleeted away with the wind
leaving me
in the hands of Death
Love
is a beggar I pledged
to never feed again
But Life
comes home one day,
with gifts on both bare hands
A man with his heart on his hands;
A heart with a hole in its glands
He needed me
I needed him
But the question still lives on,
"Does this love have the strength to hold on?"
Then out of the blue
in one afternoon,
the key inside me reappeared
on my arson hands in one happenstance.
I pushed through his heart
and saw it fit
At last, a warm embrace
At last, some warmth in my days
Love
is a beggar
but it's fed me again
Love can be a beggar, indeed.
Love can be a beggar, indeed. Ironically, well fed, sometimes it can forget it will soon need to eat again. I appreciate your thoughtful, emotive piece.