Devious Kind

Devious Kind

A Poem by La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Baby, I am an opiate,

the slur upon your words.

Don't take me in anymore and I won't hurt.

What potent confusion usurps our senses?

Baby what addicts will lurk

as strange missiles in your mind.

Baby love so hurts.

I am a trance of a kind.

 

The monsoon season unwinds

wreaking havoc terribly, though we try

to regress in each others' sighs; it just won't die.

Baby this love is terrible---why?

How strange, the nightingale trills before each night

before we collapse in exhaustion,

before we climax to another precipice.

 

Baby, to you do I only write.

I am an artifice of the most devious kind.

 


© 2011 La Belle Dame Sans Merci



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Reviews

A unique and seemingly lyrical write mixed with the emotions of what love can bring.

Nicely done.

Posted 5 Years Ago


The angst of love and the havoc it flowers. I liked it most all of it accept the word "missiles" which stick out like a sore thumb.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Love can be terrible, and addictive, and obsessional... and that's probably why we hate being in love, or love being in hate - it's all one. Too much intensity is never a good thing, far better to set a distance, so the inevitable disengagement is not so disagreeable.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 9 Years Ago


Brilliant writing...

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 9 Years Ago


I absolutely LOVE this!!!! Great write!

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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5 Reviews
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Shelved in 1 Library
Added on February 6, 2008
Last Updated on October 14, 2011
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Author

La Belle Dame Sans Merci
La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Byzantium



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