If asked to stay,
She asked if there's another way.
If asked to leave,
He held on too tight until he couldn't breathe.
When one is told to do such,
He says little and often too much.
Acts through whispers of the heart,
Often ripping and rigging him apart.
Another one listens through what he see,
How things could lay still yet suddenly flee.
It is when you act upon what you think,
You could see for yourself things come through every blink.
And it is when you act upon what you feel,
You see that what the heart has could kill.
As it numbs all of your senses,
And still leave no hint of its paces.
Leaving a ghost for a trail.
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Never Sent (Completed)
PoetryIt was then she said: "Words fed, scathed, brought my soul together; and it would be preposterous if I'd get to feel all these sensations alone, so I am giving you a part of my suffering, a fragment of my universe, a debris of myself. Through these...
