He Is

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  • Wordslinger

    He Is

     My love is evil
    My love is smart
    My love is dangerous

    I hate him
    I love him
    A torture, indeed

    He is my love
    He is evil
    He is smart
    He is dangerous
    He is my broken heart
    He is my world
    He is my sanity
    He is everything

    I hate him
    I love him
    A torture, for me

    Forever in love
    Forever in hate
    I am
    And he is

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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