Writings of love and loss,
Sickening myself with sucre.
Sucre lies, sucre fantasies.
What right have I
To speak of things that
I have never known?
What right have I
To put such as
The kiss never felt
In a line or two?
Lying, Theorizing, Contemplating,
What it might be
To be in love.
My imagined emotions,
Magnified friendships,
Eloquently described cerebrally.
On the page I write,
One sees beauty.
Beautiful lies,
Lies that speak
To a lover’s soul.
Eloquent lies,
Lies that seem
So real to some.
How can I express
What I don’t feel,
What I don’t know?
All my flowing words,
All my delicate rhyme,
All my feigned emotion.
What right have I
To tell you
What love is?
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