Love’s Language

Taken in
by your arduous words
held suspended
over sorrow
and quiet disillusionment,
I sit in reverence,
in awe of your injustice
to your own heart.
Blood leaks
from your veins
in torrential rivers of regrets
held fast to imaginary lines
of wrong and right,
and I wonder
where we got so lost
in between the shuffle
of then and now.
Because I am a mystery
and so are you,
the two of us lost,
trapped in this circle
of bars
and ropes
and chains
telling us to stay
instead of feel.
I pour out
this language of love
on pages that never
meet your eyes
and I wonder
if it’s worth it
to make others feel
what I can never imagine you do.
If it’s worth it
to write my soul onto white,
to fill up the emptiness
with some kind of purpose
instead of just waiting.
I’ve tried to stir you
into action
but my words always fall short
of forever
and you always fall short
of today.

4 thoughts on “Love’s Language

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