Upendo (sonnet)

Lying in bed with her soul so tortured,
She looks like a rose stripped off its petals,
Like a beautiful smile without dimples,
Like a once flamboyant bird captured.
Her heart cries for love for it is ruptured,
Her agony, with every beat triples,
Her eyes, with every sob, fill with ripples.
Her painful heart bleeds, for it is punctured.
Once again, love is the culprit to blame.
It is the rogue that plays with people’s hearts,
The one enemy with a blow that hurts,
The one thief that cannot be put to shame.
Love has truly established worldwide fame,
Not for its good, but for pain it creates.

(Maliq Walter Muro©)

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