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The definition of enemies to lovers

  • Obrázek autora: Michaela Thomasova
    Michaela Thomasova
  • 20. 2. 2023
  • Minut čtení: 2

Soaring power in battles,

Politics and diplomacy,

With tainted fate

Heart full of hate

What an ominous trait.


Lovers in the sheets,

Yet no heart string pulled,

Emptiness like the shaft,

His love language crafts,

That work as a witchcraft.


That until one day,

She walks into his life.

His heart of ice will fade,

Yet for denial he’ll trade

It’s like a game of charade.


Layers stay on like an armour,

Too many hurtful actions,

Too many daggers stabbed in his back,

His soul lonely, dark, almost black.

Of betrayals, it’s hard to keep the track.


She’ll tend the men on the battlefield,

Bad-mouthing the war and death

But the reckless king the most of them all,

She says: “He works like a puppet doll”

“With no heart and no soul.”


He buries his anger in indulgence,

In meaningless nights,

With old lovers and strangers,

Ignoring all the dangers,

Everything so they stay strangers.


But despite all the love affairs,

His most passionate nights are with her,

Fighting, screaming, tearing each other apart,

All done in the name of hatred, love has no part.

At least that’s how he guards his heart.


One slip up and it’ll be all fine,

One kiss, one night of meaninglessness,

Just one evening holding each other,

He thinks: “It’ll mean nothing. You’re just another”

Yet it goes one after another.


Heart strings being pulled,

With touch becoming addiction,

He can’t stay away,

Without feeling grey,

Like an old unwanted stray.


Finally, he says:

“I can’t do this anymore”

On the battlefield, all he thinks about is her,

How much hatred can he stir,

Just for another night of a passionate blur.


He says: “My love is disguised as a hatred.

I can’t handle the pressure,

Because if I don’t hate you, I have to face it.

With eternal fire, my heart was lit.

And it’ll burn forever for your wit.”


She smirks, hiding in disguise,

Yet can’t hold it any longer,

They have their last guarded passionate night,

As the poets cite,

They knew that for each other they were right.



Photo by Alice Alinari via Unsplash

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