I still write these poems of love again in my shame

For as long as this heart beats
Though erratically now by time and age

Though blinded by numerous desires
These hands shall press the letters of love again

These fingers shall caress the lines of love
Despite the pain, the sin, the blame

Did you not tell me once, that whenever and wherever love is
In whatever form and imagination,
there
is also the pain accompanying?

we love, we pain, we love again
we pain, we love, we pain again

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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