Watching you,
Watching me,
How ironic can it be?
~ Worry is a universal thing
~ Of which I'm sure that I've recieved
~ Far more than my fair share.
I look at you,
You glance at me,
I smile and hope you see my face.
~ Even as the cloud descends I see and feel it on my face,
~ Drifting from some fallen place
~ To sully my single sole desire.
I hope for you,
You seek for me?
Why then is it all wrong?
~ How can it be this perfect,
~ With such poetry and song,
~ Yet end so, like this, at this crevasse?
I want to love you,
Do you love me?
Does love exist as such?
~ I'd rather kill myself than hurt you with such a touch,
~ Of Lies and Pain and Anguish which lay wrapped around my feet.
~ It's not my fault, this cannot be. I know not this place...
Life is cruel and twisted,
We can only hope the best,
Yet how can hope live on as hope,
amidst such bitterness?

11/29/1999

Posted on 09/25/2001
Copyright © 2025 Leandra K Brossard