Your silence is a kind of
Grief,
From words that were left
Unsaid.
But when swept in a drunken
Heat,
The words of then are bled.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××
I know you more;
Yet, still I don't.
There's more for me to see
But keep your mouth and desires
Shut;
Do not be familiar to me.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Your silence is a kind of
Grief,
From words that were left
Unsaid.
But when swept in a drunken
Heat,
The words of then are bled.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××
I know you more;
Yet, still I don't.
There's more for me to see
But keep your mouth and desires
Shut;
Do not be familiar to me.
