My last look of sadness,
in the eyes I hurt.
As her lowered head turned and moved away,
I felt something inside revert.
My icy heart began to melt,
with its warmth returned anew.
But can she return to what she was,
with what I put her through.
With her lips as cold as my heart was,
will she ever trust again.
Can she ever love another,
or will my wounding chill remain.
Afraid to touch,
or let anyone near.
To always shiver,
with my instilled fear.
Will she survive,
it makes me think.
Survival can be ended,
in the time of a blink.
A blink is what it took,
to return me to my senses.
What had happen,
where were my defenses.
My love, my compassion,
my refrain from insensitivity.
My guard against the things,
I hoped an improbability.
A child is taught to be kind to others,
but not to talk to strangers.
When is the lesson learned,
to prevent the dangers.
When is it safe to speak,
and when is it not.
One must learn,
and one must be taught.
The right choice of words,
can be hard to decide.
But when words are spoken,
in the name of pride.
Few are good,
and most are told.
When one is selfish,
and the heart is cold.
She was good,
and had not deserved.
The misjudgement of action,
and speaking I served.
I contemplate,
thawed by regret.
I had forgotten the lesson,
that many forget.
Only amends,
my knees at her feet.
Can make my heart,
continue to beat.
Until I hear,
the forgiveness I seek.
Again to myself,
I shall never speak.
Until her lips are again warm,
free of that moment.
My sudden chill,
that lead to her torment.
The return of my warmth,
I hope will lead.
To her return,
to what I need.
If only I can lift,
her fallen face.
Choose with caution,
the words to replace.
The inserted knife,
that cut her so deep.
Infinitely hoping,
that I can keep.
From hurting her more,
if she even listens.
No blame would be given,
for the ignorance of this one's.
Petty apology,
my poor excuse.
For my loss of control,
and verbal abuse.
My inspiration to live,
and I threw her away.
I littered our souls,
with a price to pay.
I stole her joy,
a common thief.
But to sit in my cell,
and sing about my grief.
Will only further my depression,
I must return.
Holding out my heart to her,
as my hands burn.
Hers to do with,
as she will.
No matter what,
I love her still.
She was my life,
as one inside.
Now she is my,
spiritual suicide.
We shared the same hopes,
the same dreams and fears.
Even the same voyeur I hoped,
we'd express for many years.
I must force myself to look,
into her sad and painful eyes.
Face the destruction,
and its cause I despise.
Expel all pride,
for her forgiveness.
Weep soft tears,
of tenderness.
Await her touch,
to hold my head.
To hear her heartbeat,
to know we are not dead.
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