Rose Coloured Glasses
When you love someone,
You are lent a pair of glasses,
Of the colour rose.
They blind the wearer,
of the imperfections,
of their lover.
Blinding them,
Of what they should be able to see.
And over time,
The glasses may slip,
And fall,
And break.
Revealing, to the lover,
the mess there counterparts are.
'Will they still love me,
Now- they see the true me?'
'Will they still stay with me,
Now- they see the mess I am?'
'Will they stand by me,
Now- they see the reck they loved?'
The eyes are clear,
And not blinded.
Are they truly meant to be?
YOU ARE READING
My Poetic Preachings
PoetryThis is a book of things I feel about real people, real emotions, whether I have felt those emotions, or still do is varying from chapter to chapter.
