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cruel.
I’ve got a secret.
Hidden in the past,
locked in my chest.
You don’t know,
and you’d never guess.
You were a child of love.
I was blessed.
There’s very few children of love.
Most, are children of convenience,
opportunity, desperation or mistakes.
Lies hidden, but the truth they forsake.
...I loved your mum.
Not like, a word.
Or a feeling of desire, lost in the wind.
I loved her.
Like a swan.
Never told her.
Thats the trick to keeping them.
Never let them know you love.
But she knew I loved you.
Jealousy is a terrible thing.
But child of love.
Remember, love is not the word love.
Its not friendship.
Or convenience.
Its not lies.
Its not kind or cruel.
Love is when,
losing them..
The colours drain from the world.
The fight is over.
The gods leave,
and the cold night comes in.
And a warm bed,
a beautiful woman,
a soft voice.
warms your heart as little,
as a ice cold bath.
I miss you today.
Your either to much like me,
or nothing like me.
Because I can’t understand you,
and I can’t understand myself.
Are you really living without that fire of youth,
that throws you forward.
Do you never shout?
Its good for you.
