Conflict

Troubles are about to spike.

It’s another clash I am used to,

expelling the joy I hardly knew,

an unwelcome stray inside.

In a painful ruthless strike,

a drowning hope starts to float.

I wish the stray will subdue,

or the ram will be the scapegoat.

I persevere by staying away.

Though I love living your way,

I must be aware!

My conscience, a tormenting load to bear

for loving you.

My affection, a feeling I can’t declare.

My restless mind bids you adieu,

and I dare.

And with all this mess that I see,

I wonder which of which I am,

awake, imagining, or is it just a dream?

If dreaming,

then let me not be awakened.

I can’t just help losing thee,

and won’t give back what I have taken.

Imagining?

Am I that imaginative?

I think not!

I did touch you. How creative!

If it is real,

it’ll still be hard to conceive,

though it’s hurtling towards me.

My integrity, I believe,

is being tested

and could be compromised.

Since when did the wise

conform to the lovers’ creed?

I am wasted,

with my long-awaited Eve.

We shall both be jeopardized

if bitterness comes a day

when one of us will have to say:

“Everything has an ending,

let’s just stop pretending.”