Like heavy rain drizzles,
Striving everyday surrounded by saga's and parables of love and adoration,
This austere heart was pricked with needles.
There was no hope or sight of pure love,
Every story of epic romance and penchant felt like a bluff.
Maybe trust on solicitude and endearment vanished and that magical spell of love fables gradually tarnished.
Imagination deviated to reality,
And the warmth which I scouted and foraged in someone else,
I found that within my own self.