"He's beautiful. "
Wrapped in a sick sense of despair,
did I ever have the courage to ever to fully care?
I walk through freezing lakes and storms outside
to trek the across the dirt and rivers and find
Did I ever love a person besides?
I touchdown on the moon, on the stars
on the castles built on dreams in my mind,
the shattered heart, the tortured soul
bemoans jealousy and a cowardice untold
I am here, sitting in the plum blossom
of winter's breast,
and something about the way the cold wind tugs
so hard so strong against my chest
leaves me without no doubts
that love isn't quite done with me yet.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
"He's beautiful. "
Wrapped in a sick sense of despair,
did I ever have the courage to ever to fully care?
I walk through freezing lakes and storms outside
to trek the across the dirt and rivers and find
Did I ever love a person besides?
I touchdown on the moon, on the stars
on the castles built on dreams in my mind,
the shattered heart, the tortured soul
bemoans jealousy and a cowardice untold
I am here, sitting in the plum blossom
of winter's breast,
and something about the way the cold wind tugs
so hard so strong against my chest
leaves me without no doubts
that love isn't quite done with me yet.
I tried a rhyme-y poem. I don't do them often.
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