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.”