When you stop and think about it,

did you ever feel those things?

-Those abstract ideas, the turmoil of which you speak-

Those labels for the troubled storm stirring in your heart.

Don’t see through the shady tainted glasses

of a bewildered, morbid poet.

The clouds will dissipate and the clear day will return.

When you stop and sing a song,

Do you feel the words you’re saying?

The powerful cycle of emotions,

the folly of human interactions…

Your interpretation is possibly self-deception.

My sinful lips deem that miscommunication.

But who so can understand another?

Can two hearts whisper more than sweet nothings,

more than brush, more than merge?

None that my life has ever known.

Each person is a soft indention which time fills,

brushes over,

forgets…

Can time change?

Methinks it merely reveals.

And causes the heart a painful yearning,

to end,

to end.

That cold rejection that you once spoke of

-is taunting-

reminding you of a dream,

of a folly that is something we cannot rid

have no desire to

will not

But Heart’s strength is immeasurable

-Pounding, throbbing, enduring-

For it takes more power to turn in silence,

to wound one’s own self,

than to yield

–to scream out the hurt-

Her feelings, desires,

Confusion, pain

Time… can clear that sky.

Once my indention is filled

Brushed over

forgotten