Is romance as surface level as the faces that pass me by? People who swing hand in hand with their mates--those who will abandon and shake off the other with haste when another new taste comes in quicker than white paste.
The shadows no longer seek me; right now, they only sit and stare at the novel man with his shivering fingers. How languid they are knowing that I will eventually reach the bottom of this romantic sea. Every stroke, every second, I clean the sea of darkness, and I discover the true beauty of love and its parts.
I remember swimming to the east to see slippers with red love swimming from the feet. In the west, I found chains wrapped around souls that some say don't have a heaven. In the north, before my tricky voyage, I peeked at the women who laughed at their deeds, and men who cheered for their sins.
But down south--what could there be that I have not seen? Will Mayari shine her light as Tala accompanies me to the darkest depths of the deep blue sea? Will Apolaki feel ire that the love he had lost will be found once more? Is love as pure as others make it to be?
If love is real--pure and true--then come and tell me:
how sure are you?
YOU ARE READING
Mahal-lika!
PoetryIs love just a a collection of feelings for one? Is it just a sweet section of chocolate for one? Hearken! My heart beats faster, the box shakes stronger -- Mahal-lika! Let us tell their stories of love divine, their love full of sin!
