My dear,
Who saw the truth?
I sure didn't.
Did anybody?
Not that I've been told.
We don't live for the moment
we live for the thought
and the memory.
This I've been told.
I don't live for the thought of it
it's not the thought that gives me life
it's an image I see
that gives me breath.
Foreign language
to be understood
billions of codes
to be solved.
Speak from the eyes
living with the soul,
hearing from the words,
not from the image itself.
Such senseless reality,
you might say;
But nothing to me
had ever made more sense.
Still oblivious paths
I chose to take.
Nothing has made me regret
I had taken.
What do I see is dark
and far away
but no lights could shine
brighter than the one
I saw In Those Eyes.
Stop running.
Get some rest.
My arms are here for you.
Please accept them,
although they might
not seem good.
I'm week and humble
but only in front of you.
Why do my senses not respond
just when I need them to?
but why do I stop in front
of what I care about the most?
YOU ARE READING
Unsent.
Poetry"My Dear, It's a beautiful day outside, But I don't feel like enjoying it..." _________________________________________ A series of unsent letters. Some of them may contain inappropriate language or behaviours and some of them may be completely poin...
