Sweet Pain

The sweet pain of love’s touch
Is only sweet in the aftermath
When memory becomes selective
To ease our heart of remembering
In the moment, pain is unrelenting
Searing the heart deeper than any sword
Than any pain man can concoct
From the depths of his imagination
Not even man can conjure up
The brutality of a heart left in ruins
Of a love that was once so beautiful
Left alone to suffer for all eyes to see
Love once growing is now decaying
Passion is now another word for anger
The depths of feelings that love can elicit
From all hearts she touches
Is a testament to her inherent passion
For life and destruction.

Jéan-Pierre, Dean
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5-4-07…12:54pm