Bitter-Sweet

A limpid form of lament washed over.
There was a lull intimately pertinent to me,
Along with a terse moment of musing.
It gave a chance to release misery,
and that stopped me from ruminating,
While in my bedroom-
Hidden from what I cannot hide from.
But out my window on the third floor-
I could detect a fear of loathing myself.
You could see it from the reflection in my eyes,
Where I delineated my hollow body onto the ground.
I am a missing man not yet fit for love,
But with such appetite,
I cling to an everlasting longing.
This endless undertaking tunnels under a bridge,
Where above that bridge is judgment standing next to the grimaced face of failure.
Underneath, my excursion knows me no direction to be blocked.
Fore, if love criticizes my stride into it, then I am never to know it.
‘Cause love is not labeled, it’s everything beautiful and humble.
It stays where we can see it like the stars at night.
So here I weep with depression, but I know it just.
I know when love comes that it will be mine,
That it will be ours, and to us that is enough.