There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

– Friedrich Nietzsche


Loss of Love

I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure.
Can love be finite? It looks to be so.
It’s quite an illness—there must be a cure

For loss of love—a potion to ensure
Boundless affection, in an endless flow.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure

That any potion that I could procure
Could mirror, even faintly, that first glow—
It’s quite an illness—there must be a cure.

Although I crave the mystical allure
Of budding love, perhaps all love must go.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure

That I can love again—as we mature,
I wonder if love’s something to outgrow.
It’s quite an illness—there must be a cure

For love. It leaves me sad and insecure.
I must have grown immune to Cupid’s bow.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure—
It’s quite an illness—there must be a cure.


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A snapshot of me (Romy)

Hi. I’m Romy. without-feathers.com is my personal site, where I blog and review things and make lists and write bad poetry and do whatever other silly things come to mind. If this sounds like fun to you, it’s probably time to take your meds. But first, stick around and surf my site a little.

I hope you have as much fun exploring this site as I have making it. :)


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