Poetry (words)


Sometimes I hear your voice and it reminds me of kinder times. Times when certainty ruled the world, but it fades too fast, like your commitment. 

I hold back like a silenced gun so not to wound you with these feelings that you can’t comprehend. Holding back even though it overwhelms me. 

Your apprehension is infectious and I’m no longer the perfection that you seek. What use is a love when it’s bound and left unsaid? Is it love at all?


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