Lover’s Lot

We account for love, lost in its agenda.

Its impact has fractured our hearts—

Leaving us bleeding love. Every draft

Is an unspoken love letter, impatient to

Be read by the beloved. Let the captions

In the gazette read: “Lovers perish in

The arms of love.” Words are deficient.

They fail to unlock the depth of love;

They fail to convey the root of love’s

Sensation; but evermore, we employ

Such words, if only to capture a fraction

Of our passion. The beloved is a world

Of intensity, setting the soul in motion,

Where love becomes an embedded scroll.