I don't know what it is, but it is,
and there's nothing I can do about it.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Well so does presence, doesn't it?
I don't know how to go, where to go,
and so I keep running in place
Can I drown in your eyes, and memorize
the lines upon your face?
The heart has so much to say,
but the lips won't form the words.
The heart races too fast to speak.
I see your poetry and forget my verse.
So it's possible to miss somebody
the moment the door closes.
Would it make a difference
if I could speak roses?
1 comment:
You write very well.
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