Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Dog Of Love

Striving, working so hard to be casual.
What's it like? To be able to say 'I love you' so effortlessly?
To take for granted such a rare and strange gift?
I cannot stand to watch lovers fall apart over such meaningless and pitiful things, how dare they waste what they have?
It is no different than throwing out a full roast in front of starving dogs and then shooing them away, punishing them for coming too near.
I, the dog of love.
Cursed to witness beauty swindle its fortunes.
I'd have preferred to have never been exposed.
The flightless bird cannot miss the sky.
Now I am nothing but loves audience for its puppet show, dangling desire with such majesty so as to only allow me to sit in awe, longing to play a part.
But every show needs its viewer, or then who is there to watch it end and congratulate such a performance?

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