This pain is not of Cupid born
nor borne on winds of nights repose,
tis more the ache of being torn
from your sweet lips at evenings close.
This pain in not of teenage crush
more so of one whom knows in truth,
that so much said within the hush
and love with time will offer proof.
This pain is not of heartache shed
nor is it by your parting torn,
for this is but the path we tred
as we part ways each given morn.
So till tonight I'll bid my leave
and wear your heart upon my sleeve.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
This pain is not of Cupid born
nor borne on winds of nights repose,
tis more the ache of being torn
from your sweet lips at evenings close.
This pain in not of teenage crush
more so of one whom knows in truth,
that so much said within the hush
and love with time will offer proof.
This pain is not of heartache shed
nor is it by your parting torn,
for this is but the path we tred
as we part ways each given morn.
So till tonight I'll bid my leave
and wear your heart upon my sleeve.