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Mar 2016 · 2.0k
A constant companion
Tess Fields Mar 2016
Mysterious as they are,
they connect with the world,
drawn peace,
spin and twirl.

Shorten with the sun,
just to grow with the moon,
they come to watch,
alone and soon.

They mirror your sins,
and copy your deeds.
Although you might grin,
they will never see.
Mar 2016 · 477
Down The Rabbit Hole
Tess Fields Mar 2016
Down the rabbit hole,
and off the beaten path,
I met you smiling,
arms open, ready to laugh

I couldn't get enough of that infectious grin;
My eyes greedily lingered on you
as if a look gave me everything.

I had great expectations for my new found friend; you untangled some knots to make my heart beat right again. I envisioned us together, just two people, having fun. But I guess things that are as sweet as honey and rich as vanilla must come to an end.

I got unfairly close.
a mistake on my front.
I couldn't help myself from getting near
such a warm, cozy light.
I'm like a moth on a zapper... I should have know what was right.
You illuminated my world,
Like a candle in a dark room.
I was too fixed on the flame to notice the mess being made,
wax dripping to the table,
slowly making the candle smaller and smaller.

It ended with earl gray.
A hot cup of tea.
Too bad I had to nock it
all over me.
Mar 2016 · 289
But wait,
Tess Fields Mar 2016
But wait, what is love if
it cannot be said?

Hearts throb,
butterflies sore,
shivers run down your spine.

Feelings deep enough to be real
and real enough to be deep,
but yet those words cannot leave your lips, cannot take that leap.

So if those words cannot be said, do the little gestures count?

A lingering look, a touch of the hand, a laugh in happy silence.

Is it subconsciously known that this love will not last?
That it is just a dream,
almost a thing of the past.

Or is this emotion from you being lonely; craving feeling wanted.
And that's why you cannot say I love you, because the feeling is very haunted;

Possessed by thoughts of nights alone,
cooking for only one,
not invited anywhere,
Only tired and forgotten.

But wait, what is love if it cannot be said?
Perhaps it is none of these,
Maybe it is all in your head.

— The End —