Oh Fickle is My Mind

Photo by Wendelin Jacober on Pexels.com

Broken Van Goghs lay on the Sultan’s floor
Mared with the blood of a lover

Tell me
What’s the beauty of desire
And where does it all go?

Are we built on the lust of another
Wanting the things we may never have
Or you we titter on the edge of insanity

Agonizing over our distant future
Generations yet to come
As fickle as we are in love

Second-guessing a lover
Chased kisses
Unkept promises lie in an Unkempt bed

Wanting yet never actually stepping forward
Desiring for the world to change from my living room
Is such a waste of space

I shall scream loudly in the direction
Where no man stands
And they shall hear me like whispers on the lips of lovers

Oh fickle is my mind
That had a thought
To see the world withering
In the form of forgotten desires

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