I missed your touch, I missed your glances,
I wish I could take life's second chances.
I missed your grasp, as we share our warmth,
Lost in the motion, of one's beating heart.
I know, I can't do it alone,
I could not make myself the love to cure my soul.
I did not completely lose my sense of hope,
I just can't find, the path without dangerous slopes.
I knew beforehand you are showing out warning,
that I would have a light, continuously waning.
You could lose your wax, and burn so fast,
because you did not grow yet, like a pot that would last.
I took the risk, and stepped on that stone,
that would pierce my vitals, shatter my bones.
I observed, giving me love in crimson vision,
I was guided to light, but with painful treason.
YOU ARE READING
The Whispering Quills
PoesíaThis collection delves into the chambers of memory, where love and loss echo in hushed whispers. It's not just a book of poems; it's an intimate journey through the human heart, inviting you to confront your own depths and find solace in shared expe...
