He questions me now.
Doubt clouds his every judgement,
Like he can’t trust himself, or me.
Questions drip venomously from his lips
Burning my sensitive ears and making me bleed.
The questions he asks are absurd.
They offend my soul,
Darken my thoughts,
Hide my love in a veil of hate.
The dark shroud closes over me now
And still those accusing verses leave his lips.
Would he still question if he knew
What I held in my hand, in my heart?
The love I carry for him is pure,
The hate ever mounting.
Still, he is a puppet to whispered rumours.
He doesn’t know who to believe.
He doesn’t know where to turn.
Does he know he is turning away the truth?
Will he ever hate himself for what he has done?
The blade sinks deep.
No, he would just keep on questioning...