When the heart
is worn,
of being apart,
of being alone.
.
When an ache
is born,
in the vacant voids,
and the echoing noise.
.
When the love
is torn,
like angry flesh, that bled.
like those letters, I misread.
.
It comes tearing through
.
The suppression,
The restrictions,
The constriction,
The confessions.
.
Never caring about
the laws.
Makes it’s way through
the flaws.
Struggles in my
frantic grasps.
Tumbles through all
clumsy clasps.
.
It fills and shines,
in triumphant glory.
Spilling yet another,
secret story.
.
The most unruly
heedless one,
tickles the check,
in mocking pun.
My defenses, defeated,
still try in vain.
A routine, repeated,
lets mutiny reign.
.
Trickle, tickle, trip.
First sliding, silently.
Crashing, shattering, breaking.
Then rioting, violently.
.
The armour,
The veils,
The walls,
The will.
.
It comes tearing through…
.
Maybe that’s why,
it’s called a tear.
Loving the passion, the tripping turbulence..like a hurricane it sent my soul spinning ๐ณ๐๐ธ๐๐ฝโค๏ธ๐
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Mel!!!
You always make my day. Love ya. ๐
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