"Forever,"
You say,
"I will love you.
I will hold you close to my heart."
Subtle is the truth, though.
The tenderness you show
Is a sign of discomfort, not
Love, not
Loyalty, not even
Lust.
Overtly
Vivacious,
Explicitly
Young;
Only
Underneath your gleaming white veil
I barely see the
Sign of a
Timid heart,
Icy, rather, snowy to touch.
Looking upon your beauty, I saw singular potential. As I
Listen now,
Carefully,
Aware of the odds, that beat
Recurs. Is it mine, or is it the
Echo of your cool heart?