What is love to someone who doesn't want it?
Can love bridge the distance between a soul willing to give
And a soul that doesn't wish to take it?
Why do I not feel worthy to be loved?
The sanctity of love which comes
from her scorns my embellished soul.
This sinful feeling called love
How often I try and down it with bottles,
Smother it with Hell's flames
Leave it to be consumed by the nugatory chasm
That dwells within yet embers remain.
What is love if not ashes of the most divine scent.
What is love if not burial before death.
I know the word.
It leaves or hurts,
Stops at the ears, lives for a moment
And then dies,
Then there's the invention.
Its game, money, chance and charm,
All dawned on me.
But certain its uncertainty's still haunts, I see.
How to pretend you'll see,
Claims until I'm ready to fall it will wait for me.
Don't ask what this means.
I know the word, just the word,
And the absence it 'leaves'.