He loves me,
He loves me not...
She did not speak of it,
And yet,
Clueless with confusion,
Clearly, it was only an illusion,
...Or so they said,
Everyone just stood there and began to stare,
And just beyond their wonders,
From there,
Right there,
There was but a girl,
With her,
Lifeless face,
As her long, light-brown hair covered her place,
And not knowing if she was really there,
She followed my trace,
He loves me,
He loves me not,
Looking up,
I could only hear the whispers,
No matter if she spoke,
She was a passing of ways, but,
How could her voice come across from where I stay?
But that soft, gentle voice,
It became clear as it,
Ran through my ear,
As if there was nothing,
Nothing left to hear,
But the sweet, silent tone,
That ran through one,
And stayed in the other,
I knew she was there,
He loves me,
He loves me not
She would never shout,
She couldn't,
She wouldn't,
She only whispered,
The knowledge and the struggle,
With her words of complexity,
From the inside out,
But the truth lied within the fire,
And that fire never died,
As a part of her dexterity,
Her hands moved,
As the paper reached for the tip of the pen,
Her words then became as smooth as waves,
For those waves reached for her feet,
And the cycle repeats,
He loves me,
He loves me not...
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Trilla™
Jevon Cuthbert