Capitulate

If it wasn’t for her good love,

there would have been no love at all,

it seemed that way,

as we capitulate.

Traditions die slowly,

there’s nothing like love’s drawn out pain,

from swollen eyes,

staying home unless it rained.

There’s a party in the hearts of true lovers,

before they say goodbye,

departing under-covers with another,

as clocks tick on

 we queue up another sad song.

When good love leaves these walls bare,

hearts are left adrift,

we pray like Hell to keep that SUL,

we whisper in the dark,

about a soul we used to have,

souls we had to sell,

we capitulate so well . . .

Days when sun-heats down,

nights with friends

 laughter abound and around,

life with laughter all around!

If it wasn’t for her good love,

there would have been no love at all,

at least, it seemed that way.

It seemed that way.

If it wasn’t for her good love nobody loved me at all.

Advertisements

About memoirpoet

I've been faking it as a writer for more than 30 years. Keep that low.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s