The pendulum swings,
while the mania in my head,
strips me bare and yanks me,
into the cauldron of love.
Once again,
never divining the tea leaves,
knowing, always knowing,
the gnawing knots of unease,
that curl into a fist.
My isolation is a shield,
a suit of armour,
tightly clad around my self,
once worn,
then discarded,
taking its place,
on my barren shelf.
Love, mania and verse,
coalesce, beseeching me,
with timeous forewarning,
not to tread into the quicksand,
that slippery bog of promise.
Yet,
in times past,
in moments present,
tis’ that very promise,
that I cling to.
At times I lose,
myself in the crowd,
revelling in the solitude found there,
at times I claw,
my way back to the now,
aching for the pain that stings,
the buried voice that sings,
dirges to forgotten emotions,
scribbled verse that flings,
the toys out of my cot,
while I wait,
for the mania to stop,
knowing,
always knowing,
that it shall be,
merely a matter of time,
before the other shoe,
must, as always,
drop
They say being broken hearted can lead to serious ailment… you just said it well..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks my friend
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fabulous !!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Humbled. Thank you very much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is medication for bi-polar mania…not sure there’s a cure for love sickness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
so very true … that’s one ailment that has no prescription for it 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person