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Wycked
by   Iced Smoke

Searching for the perfect caress, 
longing to end this catastrophic mess,
but wanting something to fill this hole,
you made with wycked nothings upon my soul.

I follow thee unto the night,
Wandering helplessly but in spite,
of everything that I was told and 'learnt',
I fell in love with you and I was burnt.

Oh, how I wish the pain would end,
carry me away or to my death send,
for I am weakened by your eyes, 
entranced and possessed by your wycked lies.

Brought to ecstasy by your smile, 
a love that seems so infantile.
Upon the night-wind my tears do dry,
the relentless aftermath of an adoring cry.

My soul weeps and pours forth onto thee,
Asking a simple, "do you love me?"
To which your lips do so adequately play,
"of course I do," they merely say.

My heart is torn I cannot stay, 
into the darkness I must away. 
To watch you by moonlight and hope you are near,
as my voice on the wind whispers... "I love you my dear."
        
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Poem ID: 16567   Poem Posted: 6/24/1999
Viewed: 14652  Voted On: 303  E-mailed: 98  Commented On: 9
 
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Copyright , 1999,  all rights reserved by the author.
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