Burning pictures on the wall, hold onto comforts oh so small, discover the ones that love you;
They hide themselves behind crumbling ice, they say they've never told a lie, but you know better, don't you?
Permanent change within your chest, you've become different than the rest, a lack of beating heart;
Blood still pumping through my veins, though it might all be in vain. your death; more beauty than art.
your voice so sweetly drowns my pain, and draws me into days of rain, my therapy- your touch;
I could never let this go, it can't be real, and this I know- but I love you much too much.
YOU ARE READING
The View From Above
PoetryThis is a book full of feelings. maybe they aren't my feelings, maybe sometimes they are. If you read it, try to relate to the feelings being portrayed. We'll see what happens.
