Her name is Natalie.
She laughs too much and is always in bed.
Doesn't giggle AT ALL
(No matter what others have said).
She's the freak who won't text but call,
But won't talk to someone unknown.
Gets tired walking up stairs,
And loves being alone
Whilst hiding how much she cares.
She likes to write even if it's no good.
Creating is breathing for her
So who am I to be a stick in the mud?
Instead I will support when she's unsure.
I'll be good to her as she is to me,
Though we've had a rough past
I know I can set her free
For it will be my love that will last.
She's strong and calm when she needs to be,
Rage and fierce in order to protect me.
She's as rough and smooth as the sea,
And she's exactly who I want to be.
YOU ARE READING
Lachrymose
PoetryLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
