Where Hope Dies

1

Myra needs no introduction. I call her the 21st century poet because her poems relate to our everyday struggles. Her previous works speak for themselves: Dear Heart, I am Woman and Drowning, so I’ll just leave this here.

Clap for her as she enters.

***

Like nothing else

It’s all too surreal,

The aftermath.

Knowing that you have to pick yourself up again.

 

We let people in

And we trust

And we let the walls come down

The purest form of vulnerability.

 

Giving ourselves to love

To risk our hearts

We chance upon the love

In the hopes of reaping fruit.

 

But then something happens

The most abrupt of change

So sudden

That in that moment you miss it.

 

But after the fact

You understand there is no going back from it

Where hope dies

How can love thrive?

 

Too many cons

And not enough pros

A decision must be made

In that most defining moment.

 

Prevailing circumstances

Those within and without our control

They matter not.

You must wake up and smell the coffee.

 

That love withers

And the opposite of love is not hate but indifference

You must stave off possible resentment

Salvage your wounded pride.

 

At best,

Walking away might just trump trying harder.

When you’re more in love with memories than the person in front of you.

But what happens when your walk in incentive for them to follow?

 

We’re not all gifted in giving up

It’s a mean feat

And yet we must,

For the future reigns supreme.

 

Paths cross

Not necessarily to join

Maybe as a mere bypass

Who really knows, huh?

***

P.S: I know you’re all busy people; in this economy you can’t afford not to. So I, the sweet charming thoughtful Simon,  made work easier for all of us with that small ‘Love’ icon you see at the top of this article. When you’re too busy or zonked to leave a comment, just click on it.

Be a darling and share this:

King

King is a mad writer on the loose. He is suspected to have lost his mind a few years after he was born. Since then, he has been writing his mind almost everywhere he can put his pen on. Someone – a government, a state, a police force, a parent, a teacher, a rabbi, a president, a sacco, a doctor, a deranged ex, a church, a therapist, or anyone with a bit of power bestowed upon them – should reprimand him and help him.

4 thoughts to “Where Hope Dies”

  1. I never enjoy poems. This was beautiful though.
    So I’ll just forward my drama from the previous post here. Khalighraph??? How now bruv?

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