Details |
Clare Jane Poem
Distant from rest,
our love wasn't the rain ,
not thunder nor quake ,
it resided in profound silence,
to the extent of hearing eachother's thoughts,
Like echoes blending into one,
In these moments ,
found solace and grace ,
a language of Whispers,
Like secret trysts.
But I ruined it all ,
draining the hues from your eyes ,
yours eyes once vibrant ,
now stained with stories unsaid ,
all I glimpsed was blurry lines ,
that's the end of us ,
a love that can't be whole .
Copyright © Clare Jane | Year Posted 2023
|