when no one is around,
who comes to mind,
even when the world surrounds,
always who comes to mind,
as a fresh but distant fond but a sad memory
only who comes to my mind?
& then, you don’t seem to leave,
a reflection of us, both
maybe you are not in the know,
when every one is around,
even when you don’t seem to be
accepting of this: honesty - peril of true love…
gives you away!
& your muteness, does not it?
truthful it is - bitter yes, but the sorrow of true love holds sway!
tough for you!
hurt - which is that noble ointment of near-forsaken love,
unconditionally
gathers the ache; the blaze of burnt-out self
will you be able to match this?
hold on, harboring all that within yourself,
summoning what is without that limited you so narrow,
so suffocatingly tight
so sorry, it makes perfect sense then,
that nothing seems to matter
nothing seems to comfort you
wonder why?