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Optomism

 

Why did I not foresee by the look upon your face?

Why did I feel a lie every time you held my hand?

Why could I always feel the awkwardness in the touch of you fingers?

Why did we stop laughing in the way in which lovers do?

Why did I feel the flame in our lives was being extinguished?

Why without remorse did you steel the breeze,

Why did you turn the breeze into a storm of hatred?

Why did you steel away the option of chance,

The chance of revival for us you stole,

You I could have forgave in time with revival,

Over time my heart would have mended.

 

The crystal droplets of water fall,

Falling from my eyes of emptiness,

The once soft grains of sand of life have become rough for me,

Sandpaper leaves a vicious friction across my heart,

You have left me with the exaggeration of a new wound,

Yet again has my heart acquired a new scar.

 

I know that my collection of wounds will heal over in time,

I know that the light of love will shine upon me once more,

The returning dove is my comfort, my optomism,

As long as the dove flies there will for me always be the chance of new love.

 

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