I consider myself a romantic.
Not because I give flowers and gifts at every turn,
Not because I whisper sweet nothings just to see him smile,
And certainly not because I am some great lover.
I call myself a romantic because—
I long for the quiet touch that reassures the meaning of my existence,
I ache for the attention and gentleness of someone who sees me,
I live to give — blood and sweat — for the comfort of a beloved,
I yearn for the warmth, the heat, of someone I care for deeply.
Perhaps I am a fool.
But aren't we all,
In the eyes of those who do not love?
YOU ARE READING
The Unspoken Words
PoesíaThe words I have no courage to say... I wrote them instead and keep it for strangers to read and wonder. While those who might know me would read thinking it's just another random girl.
