Am I affectionate enough,
when the words escape my mouth?
...
The willow tree sways
the breeze dense upon fractured
repentive vows.
He never shocked me into believing,
I just accepted at face value.
...
The slope of your shoulders
I once dreaded,
The tip of your tongue
a wave of violence,
rushing towards my heart's core.
...
After the death of love
little is left but regret
sometimes
hate and loathing
...