You haunt my future and sear my soul, with ominous unpleasant doings.
I don’t want to acknowledge you
But I fail to Ignore you
Do I dig in and stay for the revolution?
Or do I close my eyes and simply salt my wounds?
The page opens to snow on a field: boot holed month, black hour/ the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light./ To what and to whom does one say yes?
His eyes are ice
His souls is dark
He never sees me
Yet I still try
I look in to his eyes
Try finding his soul
Hoping that I will change him
But he never will
Love is here. I feel so happy and blissed out. Is this really my life?
Nobody is GIVING me love. No platters are being handed out with that delicious entree. It resides fully within me. And I radiate it out. Can you feel it?