Love Is A Privilege

Love Feature Image

Love is for the privileged,
Not for people like me,
It’s a star I see twinkle,
Just too far to reach.

It’s a laid out feast,
And they eat to their hearts content,
For the starveling mewling me?
A forgotten sentiment.

Like a star and yet lackluster,
Love has lost its appeal.
Yet to my impoverished soul,
Every morsel is a meal.

I awake in cold sweats,
Finding it operose to breathe.
At war with myself,
And there is no retreat.

Black and scattered shards,
And thoughts I’d rather hide,
Such things I see within me,
when I look inside.

I see them on their beds of roses,
And their lips part for me like the sea did for Moses
Is love a privilege or is it divine?
I can’t know because it will never be mine

The metal bites me,
Red tears roll down my skin.
I lie down and gaze up,
My life wears thin.

Love isn’t a star, nay not a feast
Love is a wooden stick,
And I was beat to death.

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