love is the window....


love is the window....

love is the window to pain,
the one that's always open driving u insane,
its the one with the tears,
and the fears,
shining bright in the air,
its the window that makes u care,

love is the window into hearbreak
the one that makes u cry and ache,
its the one with the pain filled screams,
that always haunt ur dreams,

love is the window into despair,
its letting a depressing air,
the one window with the lies,
that sparkle back in ur eyes,

love is the window to death,
one look in it and you loose your breath,
its the window that will kill,
because that window is more than it and just a window sill,

that window is cursed or blessed,
all i know i love is messed,
up as can be,
i know for a fact for it happened to me.

Poem Comments


Please login or register

You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

Login or Register

kittman101 commented on love is the window....


this poem sparks so many emotions, it has brought forth so many words before...which i didnt like to share, so i erased them and replaced these there. i can feel the tears in your eyes when you begin to cry, from all the saddness that comes and goes, like a river through your eyes it flows, into a deepness which cant be seen, like an abyss or a blackness thats mean. but each time you cry, i know you try, to harden yourself from every one inside. there was many times i cried, and tried to hide, myself away from the world, as it swirled into something which i could not be free from. the life i created which i debated later on in life, which caused me to much strife, i couldnt let go, so like you my tears began to flow, with no signs to slow, but it was because i didnt know this was the life i chose. in time i begin remembering all the things which had happened in my life from my childhood death which i was brought to life, where later i seen my grandpa, grandma, and mom pass away. and yes i cried because a part of me also died. At the funeral i was even told since i didnt cry i never loved my mom. the truth remains that we all loved her, just in different ways. so although i know the pain of loss, i will never know the pain which runs as deeply within you. but i am greatful that you can express some of it in your writing. thank you for allowing me to share a small part of your life.

Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

Lunabella’s Poems (14)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Behind her smile... 0
Tsk, tsk silly boo 0
No More 1
The Dark Lover 1
Wedding blessing 1
I want... 0
Yo-yo effect 0
The dead can't cry... 2
Michaela's gone... 4
I want to reach out... 1
One day... 1
If you would let me I would... 5
The Simple Things 7
love is the window.... 1