All I have is this rosary.
The one I laid into your hands while you called for the Lord,
The one that sat in your hands when He came.
There was no light.
My angel wasn't there.
Only manicured nails and your pink lipstick.
No words could describe the feeling,
Only pianos, and a violin.
The soft loss I feel when the sun rises,
Knowing you wont see it, and tell me to close the blinds.
So I leave them open, hoping to hear you complain.
Hoping to hear my angel.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
All I have is this rosary.
The one I laid into your hands while you called for the Lord,
The one that sat in your hands when He came.
There was no light.
My angel wasn't there.
Only manicured nails and your pink lipstick.
No words could describe the feeling,
Only pianos, and a violin.
The soft loss I feel when the sun rises,
Knowing you wont see it, and tell me to close the blinds.
So I leave them open, hoping to hear you complain.
Hoping to hear my angel.
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