With her ~ was not truly myself
With her ~ was not ever accepted
With her ~ hobbled around awkwardly
With her ~ love was something earned
With her ~ doing was above being
With her ~ sex was a weapon
With her ~ was slowly dying
Without her ~ now accepted
Without her ~ dance
with Grace
Without her ~ love is a gift
Without her ~ being is above doing
Without her ~ sex is something shared
Without her ~ slowly living
(Matchbox Twenty ~ Back 2 Good)
All our souls are written in our eyes,
ReplyDeleteHer eyes dead and cold,
Escape,
to find,
eyes alive and warm,
So much to look forward to.
This is more like it. Now I see the gratitude.
ReplyDelete