RELAPSES OF LOVE
She crawls into the emergency room,
bleeding and crying her heart out.
She just got hit in her own bedroom,
during one of her loved one's blackouts.
He can't believe it's happened to him.
He swore an oath that he'd never hit.
He says a prayer, a heavenly hymn.
Just like his father, he promised to quit.
We tend to abuse the one's we love.
We tend to put 'em down low.
We tend to burn the white dove.
We tend to crush it so.
She wants to believe his regretful words.
She's knows he loves her with all his heart.
He's not like all the soap-opera bastards.
He could make a fresh, clean start.
He explains the hole, the black to her.
The snap he cannot control.
She gets him a private counsellor,
to save his mournful soul.
We tend to abuse the one's we love.
We tend to put 'em down low.
We tend to burn the white dove.
We tend to crush it so.
They got it know, they really do.
Of course there'll be relapses too.
But instead of burning the white dove,
they found the truth of love.
Poetry by Daybreaker
Read 472 times
Written on 2006-10-14 at 04:13
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penfold18 |
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-Angela |
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Kathy Lockhart |
