“Hopeless Romantic” by Isabella Bruce
What love grows, what love destroys,
What love chose one of many faces.
What love is choice, and what love paces
Through the mind of a hopeless romantic.
What love is fair and sweet and kind,
What love is pure and never dies,
What love is foolish, and what love sighs
Through the mind of a hopeless romantic.
Fondness feeds the devotion of desire;
One glance, one glint, known by many tongues.
Delight rejuvenates the laugh of lungs
Through the eyes of a hopeless romantic.
If e’er admittance should leave my lips
Spilled this passion, this plague my heart has built,
Neither friend nor cure could heal the flow of guilt
Through the form of a hopeless romantic.
To embrace the truth I shall not deny
I would rather wait by the gates of hell,
Than endure all ache of the hope that fell
Through the hands of a hopeless romantic.
Unknown by yet so widely known
Of the desire she never knew,
Her words had run and pierced right through
The heart of a hopeless romantic.
If love e’er brought you to think,
If love e’er drove harmonic emotion;
How to press the fountains of adoration
Being filled with depths of the deceitful ocean.
What wretched love can break the best of man,
The vessel blown and the galleon tips,
Dimming the spark of life to live
Another day as a hopeless romantic.