crickets don't chirp in hell
they burn
brighter than the fire
that fuels your scorn
feeding your anger
like cicadas at dawn
takes hold
and suffocate
subjugate spirits
until hearts are torn
love don't come easy
to a cold heart
or a misused
trampled on
abused heart
love is war
unpredictable
from the start
like the urgings of youth
grasping at straws
gasping at yet
another of life's
myriad illusions
lost
in a tabernacle of lies
love tossed aside
like schmatte
as if
God doesn't exist
who am I to love?
I can only die