The ice crystals that are inside your eyes
Not befitting angels but nasty trolls,
Reflect the heartless soul of one who dies
The death of liars and small mournful souls.
The touch of your hand freezes my thin skin;
The very body of my inner core.
It diminishes the warmth from within,
From which my love blooms and begins to soar.
The shake of your head leaves me almost blind;
And let me catch my breath before I faint.
If you could stop moving it would be kind.
I hate you, I love you, how dare you paint
Such an awful picture of my life's quaint
But real dilemma, you'll probably taint
Thursday, February 16, 2012