What do you mean when you say that you love me?
What kind of cognition does that word hold for you?
Is it the love that's pink daisies embroidered on pillows
soft like a petal against our rapturous breasts
titillated by giggles and secret swoonings
purest love like a white dove's wing fanning your kiss?
Or is your love like mine
dead because it no longer recognizes its meaning
faint because too many other things have pushed it aside
straining to hear its call to former glory
when it knew the rush of heady passion so dangerous
when it would have brought you back from the brink of shadows
and beat life into your pale chest
gasping with you as we cascaded the tumultuous whirlpool together.
All I can see is the love that says everything to ease my fears but does nothing,
a face that I cry over is speaking, but not taking the time to understand what I need
the face does not understand how to give me love, but gives me what she thinks I need instead.
something has to pacify me, keep me from crying out over and over again
is it over? do you still love me? why am I not important to you? will you be here forever?
why can't you give? why do you take? why do you not think of me? is this how you leave almost four years?
When will you give me what I crave? When will your love recognize its meaning?
When will you decide what you want and how to get her?
posted by Raellyn @ 12:42 AM
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