Just Almost Poem by James Walter Orr

I read and then re-read again her post.
I sit in silence, then I give a sigh.
My blood subsides from boiling so, but most,
I wonder how words spoken, often try
To touch one, but then lie alone to die,
Or echo through time’s hallways, like a ghost,
And though they scorch and burn, yet pass one by,
Leaving behind a heart that’s charred to toast,
But held for ransom, with one’s fate the host,
And naught to hear the silence of one’s cry,
Which echoes ‘cross one’s heart from coast to coast,
As all the truths of love, it does belie.
Now all the dreams of love that we can boast,
Can never be attained, but just almost.