A tale of love

Life is beautiful. Its myriad hues of pain and joy interspersed with moments of heightened awareness and fatigued stupor certainly warrants appreciation. Here is a poem in the mores of TA.

A tale of love

She, the love of my life,

The thorn in my soul,

How can I hate her?

Yet to love her is a sin,

Made in heaven.

This is the curse

I have to bear till the grave.

From this hell,

God alone can save.

The physical abuse,

The emotional abuse,
The covert sexual abuse,

The pain and anger and hatred,

These are excruciating

But I overcome them.

It is the love that truly defeats me.

Not hers, for she can never love

There is neither empathy there nor conscience.

She will use me till I drop dead

And then weep over my listless head,

Yet I will willingly die for her

That is the secret and the dread.

This hidden desire to throw away

My precious life,

For her cruel play.

It is my love that defeats me

I ever drown in this sea

Of my emotions,

Which I carry for her,

This sickness that blackens my soul,

None can erase this love so foul.

“Please help me!”

A cry from the depths of my soul:

The Child within weeps

Trapped in this forbidden love.

A greater love does exist

And this is the happy twist

That will efface the horrors of my tale.

This devotion for that presence

That envelops every sense

Will dry my eye

And draw out a smile.

Into His glory I will melt;

All my burdens will be smelt

In the fire of this divine love;

The ore of shame

Will yield a heart of gold.

En route to this haven of mine

There are pitfalls of pain;

The path is steep to traverse

Yet lit with His amazing grace;

Thirst quenched by snaking rivers,

And guided by Parental stars,

The Adult carries on in hope.