A silence in your soul.
Longing in your eyes.
Looking for solace.
Looking for a safe haven.
Looking for the safe haven you destroyed.
Now all alone,
Angry at yourself
For destroying the one thing that mattered most.
The one thing that had a heart
You replaced with ice and stone.
Now, where are you to run to?
No one.
YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink Poetry
Poetry"The poem is a little myth of man's capacity to make life meaningful." - Robert Penn Warren
