Benign
With every thought I thought of her
her memory pushed right back.
To purge my soul of all it's worth
and leave my heart to crack.
Where pressure built up over time
to lead a man to die.
And all but faith recalled the chance
the life served yearning why.
Where every-time I thought of her
my heart said she's benign.
And only words I spoke to her
would turn and say your mine.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2018
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