Something gnaws at me
Shredding the scars of my heart
Left to bleed again
Cleanly cut by razor blades
Love’s left to spill on the floor
Why pain in passion
So much that it breaks the heart
Contradictory
Is not love the greatest joy
As promised from up above
Perhaps I’m fickle
Believing that love is grand
Like in fairytales
If this turns out to be false
Then I am a born victim
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Dom DiFrancesco 
Grand some days … not so grand on others, sadly.
Great post —
Very true, very true.
There’s a wonderful book I’m reading, “The How of Happiness” by a research psychologist. She asked her little son what “love” means and he said, “It means I want to kiss you a lot and live with you forever.” She says that’s a perfect definition of love. I consider her a true scientist.
If love is a fairy tail, then I’ll choose to be its victim every time I’m born. It’s the only way to suffer meaningfully – except ice cream.
Great poem! Thank you.
Talmage
http://www.storiform.com
Thank you very much my friend, I appreciate your thoughtful and informative comment. I too would be a victim every time I’m born for the chance at love…and I’m with you on the ice cream as well. Well said.