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Monday, September 19, 2011

Ownership To Integral Love by: Victoria L. McColley

a fictitious love story...

I seen her over the tears of yesterday
where the sorrows of her grief fell to the pith of emptiness
she lingered for far to long inside loneliness
counting dried rose petals from his romantic bouquets
...illusive they were
as they smelled of exotic lilies
those ones from the valley called little bells

Baby's breath delicately adorned the stems & petals
she kept them inside her diamond cut crystal vase
it became the urn of her memories she held for him
he gave her yellow carnations when he lied through his eyes
not realizing the meanings of petals
blossoming in profusions array
her tears disclosed by deceptions of her confounding beliefs
...in him…persisted to deplete her spirit…offering her scarlet roses
with the avowing scent of promise's
underlying his concealing betrayals

it's funny to me...somehow having been there and done that
in those same emotional valleys...gullies & burrows…
…fields so fertile with dreams thirsting to take root
knowing all the poisons he injects into their thoughts
she thinks she is the only one...but surely she knows...
I wonder…her heart must know the truth…

He takes great pride in his cloaks…thinking they all believe...
but some do…unfortunately...some will be like her
...falling like quicksand
wanting the lies to be truth in such a desperate way
she will wear those fuchsia rose colored glasses...
painting her future with hope & fulfillments of trust
staying to long inside a broken dream
and all the while not being able to see
it wasn't a dream at all...it wasn't even close to truth...
just camouflaged realities…being chiseled and molded like clay…

it was just a game of sexual conquest...
stealing hearts without concern...
Stroking pawns & pieces to maneuver over bodies & words
to carry longing into the soul which does believe
inside love's bounty…
it’s eternal you know…

but the lust was just self righteous ego...stroking gratificational pursuit
…fulfillments to personal masturbatory pleasures...why is it so hard to see
…in between the lines & forking split words spewing over audacities
they are all the same...over & over...it works like infecting intoxication
pouring vintage wine to overbrims edge...
to lonely hearts...bathing in hope…endlessness…unchangeable…

I seen her today...over the tears of yesterday
where sorrows of her grief finally fell to the pith of the emptiness
the hollow spaces which echoed her sorrows
where she had held with all her might
the beliefs of his empty promises overturned by her own strength...
Her ownership to integral love & cherishment’s inside the arms of devotional commitments…
…to herself claimed with complete clarity…
and I wondered...oh yes
…I wondered if he realized he was now the sacrificial pawn?

(Written: July 7th, 2010 5:09 p/m)
© Poetess Victoria L. McColley

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