The Taste Of Love

Lies baked with love is always sweeter, 

But never knew, 

How the sour taste, 

Of ego fills up the spaces, 

In between the layers of pure love. 

Or was that the tongue, 

That gave a space, 

For the witch to reside, 

The mind being paid a rent of poison, 

To ruin the heart,

Pumping love for the souls. 

Souls are immortal, 

And so is love. 

Love poisoned is still love,

That never meets destiny, 

Yet, the taste of the poison, 

Still lives in our hearts, 

Piercing our souls like thorns, 

Bleeding love yet is hidden forever, 

As a sign of disgrace, 

As a sign of a nightmare!