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R. Ariffin

Squandering With Much Time

The sunset breeze that I felt was barbed;
Impaling to the unkind memories of late;
All the beauty in winding stars withered in grey;
When love, as I was told, was overrun by fate

We were indeed beautiful and majestic;
waltzing through idealistic infatuation that burns,
Immersed with love and soaked with hope,
Dancing against fate and all of its ignorance

I have always considered without prejudice;
That fate is no match against love and its glory,
But you opened my eyes to a point of disbelief;
When you said fate is love lost against reality

There I was, squandering with much time;
Reminiscing our defeated love over fate;
While sitting and staring at the broken sun;
With a cup of coffee and a plate full of hate

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