(I want to touch you but my fingertips are numb, I want to love you but my chest is tightening up)
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In the tapestry of life, I weave my threads,
Each knot tied with care, each color carefully spread.
A giver of warmth, a beacon of light,
Yet, in the dense fog, I remain out of sight.
I offer my hand, my heart, and my soul,
To uplift and mend, to make broken hearts whole.
But as the sun sets on each selfless day,
I stand alone, with my own blues to sway.
People gather 'round, drawn by my glow,
Yet when I'm in need, where do they go?
My cup overflows, yet within, it's so bare,
The burden of silence is painfully hard to bear.
I plant seeds of kindness, nurture them with love,
Yet when darkness descends, no stars above.
In this garden of giving, I am but a wraith,
My longing for reciprocity met with bitter faith.
The tears I shed, like rain on barren lands,
My dreams, like castles, built on shifting sands.
The ache in my chest, the weight of the toll,
A heart overflowing with an unspoken parole.
Each selfless act, a symphony of pain,
An unending cycle, a relentless chain.
Depleted and worn, I stand by the shore,
Gazing at waves that crash, yet crave for more.
The echoes of my deeds, a silent symphony,
Fading into the void, lost in the cacophony.
A solitary dancer in this wistful masquerade,
Where the act of giving becomes a silent charade.
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YOU ARE READING
🥀𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
PoetryIn the hush of twilight's gentle embrace, whispers of the heart weave their delicate grace. Untold stories unfurl in quiet reverie, painting dreams upon the canvas of destiny. Emotions dance in the soft glow of the night, like fireflies aglow in the...
