A year has passed,
It started very bright with hot passion.
But it has now grown cold and dim to sight.
I could have sworn it would have never ceased,
but it has.
Doubt, I had for your love.
For it's depth I never knew.
I felt it though.
Love hurts, sorry.
Sorry, for you asked me never to toil with your heart.
I did, not on purpose.
I feigned affection hoping to love,
When and if it grew.
Now it is for sure that it never did.
My thoughts were one of kindness,
But the opportunist me,
Made me propose love in the face of deception,
It hates, sorry.
Sorry, though truth said is freedom.
It's responses has held me a captive.
One of pain and remorse.
I am sorry it is over.
I can say it, not to your face.
I can write it, but can not hand to you.
I can dream it, but can not share with you.
Silently it dwells within.