Home

(0Sad0) A sonnet sung by someone that misses me.

by Omi Salavea

No longer curious eyes,
peeking above tainted sheets.

No quiet surprises in the smallest smile.

No rocks at my window at 3 in the morn...

No tears on a payphone 480 miles away.

No gentle hands waking me on a lazy Saturday afternoon...

No neon-tressed pixie chasing me on the dance floor.

No little feet to clunk around in and ruin my running shoes.

No kisses in darkness, no passionate reverance of my body in the night.

No little heart, little girl, to love me without question...


.....................................




Can you tell me you love me?

Can you tell me you trust me?

Can you tell me i can trust you?

Can you tell me what I feel is nothing to be ashamed of?

Can you tell me it's worth it?

Can you tell me that I am special?

Can you tell me how important I am to you?

Can you tell me you feel the same?

04/01/2005

Author's Note: To every person this little girl has ever confused the spark in a person's eye as love, knowing now, after all these years, that sparkle was only her reflection....

Posted on 09/09/2002
Copyright © 2019 Omi Salavea

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2019 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)