Wednesday, May 26, 2010

92

Your madness breaks my heart- as your mind stirs
to the whirling of my soul,
I wish I could hurl all your troubles with a wave of
a wand;



The tip of my finger pressed to thine lips,
to mum the evil that depresses you;

the sound of each breaking tissue,
contained, to soothe you.

I am unwilling to cut coils of my own despair,
lest it implies peace in your core.

0 comments:

Post a Comment

 

Follow Through Copyright © 2009 WoodMag is Designed by Ipietoon for Free Blogger Template