Something Else

April 29, 2016

How can I truly be loving,

if I'm still uncovering myself?

 

Do I stand the test of time,

or do I fall beyond the wayside?

 

Listening all this time

becomes destructive in the end.

A voice spoken but left unheard.

 

A noise left out in the cold,

given no room to inhale.

 

Best left to harden, to

fall susceptible to those

who find it repulsive.

 

I can still be loving,

in its own way.

I can still show my love,

once the door opens again.

 

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