"You try your best to break it. Living like a sculpture,
taking it's abstract form, carving, and chiseling with your
mouth with nothing to show for it but a chill as if it's a frozen
piece of ice.
Hands are not tools. The're made to hold. To feel the heat of one's
heart coming through, to melt the other as if it were a piece of chocolate.
Yet, she holds back with reasons unknown.
Leaving my mind with questions that i need to ask.
Questions that just may chip away the concrete shell .
Standing together in night's darkness, with the light of
the moon shimmering off the left side of her tanned cheek.
I asked. " Why not even a simple kiss, or a moment of a held
hand after six months in your company."?
Turning away with a couple of steps out of the
glorious moonlight. Standing in complete darkness, a
voice called out. " It's hard to love again, when love never
treated me right the first time around."
I then stepped into the darkness, softly pulled her back
in the moonlight, held her in my arms whispering.
"You are now in the light with a love the second time
around."
We kissed. Held hands taking a walk under the stars to a new
path on a concrete sidewalk."