Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I was praying for you
not to have a change of heart
but maybe my prayers
were not loud enough to be granted
Nonetheless, I liked it better
when you would always pull my hand
to tuck it on on your coat
and let your warmth
cover the coldness of mine
rather than the attempts of shunning the prospect
of our hands to simply touch
I liked it better
when you would always greet me
with flowers after our petty quarrels
rather than welcoming me
with your unshaven face,
disheveled coat and the reeking of alcohol in you
I liked it better
when you would plan out
our happy ending in a sheet of old tattered paper
with your untidy handwriting
rather than signing the new printed paper
which crumbled the possibility of the life
I've been trying to build with you
lovejunkie Jun 2018
I can but dream of yester-year,
Thy voice a song-bird singing;
With every morn I woke to thee,
And true-love just beginning.

ღ ღ ღ

Crept up upon, and stole away,
Love claimed me when I found thee;
Thy dawn, thy noon, thy evening's set,
Thy pitch-black locks around me.

ღ ღ ღ

Please fare thee well my song-bird,
Though I know I shan't be near thee;
Thy melody still somewhere sings,
Though I shan't ever hear thee.
ღ ღ ღ
christy moore - black is the colour
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5fBppsntAE

— The End —