If there's nowhere ,
For your love to go,
Pour it ,
Pour it all ,
In the objects you own,
It might be a lethal ,
Cruel thing to try ,
But I think it's better ,
Cuz objects don't cry,
And if you're still afraid,
Put your love ,
In words and threads,
These words will let you ,
Love them ,
Paper stays till end,
And if there's love ,
Still left in you,
You can try ,
To store it too
But storing it may go
In vain,
If you don't love ,
Yourself again,.
~ss
'waiting for love ,is a wretched thing ,
When all the rain does ,is remind you ,
You're alone ,
When all the journeys do is ,yearn
And these painful nights of yearning ,
Don't sleep ,they keep waiting,
And waiting to see
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid
PoetryIt was painfully worded , And beautifully read , The things that were written, Were those never said.
