Your soft and brown eyes filled
with tears, put in place by me,
hands dropping for you cannot hold,
locks playfully alive now killed,
You are a wreck I can see,
at the sight of me grown cold.
Not a word uttered if not laced with dissent,
shaking your belief in promises made,
keeping you at bay,ignoring your simple intent,
never noticing your hand neatly laid
by my still fingers,
while time lingers...
I should turn and say,
I should put you at ease,
Place a hand over your fingers,
smile and recognize,
That I am aware of a brewing
between us,that I realize.
Yet,its better to leave you behind,
than to give you a life unkind,
to have you waiting for a calm
that will never clasp your palm.
I am a starved of Love,
this hunger kills,
rather to fall, still in Love,
than infect you with its ills.
It is not strange to be in Love.
But to be in Love with a stranger?
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