She asks me what I think love is,
But I do not have an answer.
The rawness of my throat,
Constricts me from answering,
And stops me from setting my emotions free.
I can tell that is her goal,
But why does she try,
When she knows,
That when she needs me to provide my shoulders,
I will not be able to help her.
I will fill my shoulders with excuses,
And with regrets.
My depression will define me once again.
YOU ARE READING
A Poet's Love Story: A Poet's Collection
PoetryLife, Does not wait, For you. It stirs your emotions, And reforms them, Into wings of flight, And it tests, Weather or not, You will open the cage, And allow yourself, To give up, Or if you will keep the wings calm, And continue to live, And underst...
