in a world where we couldn't feel,
where would the love go?
would it shrivel
like a wilted flower
or die out like a lost flame?
you can hear it
whisper in the breeze
but you can't see it, you can't feel it
an affectionate touch
from a lover is equivalent
to a professional handshake;
how mundane
it's not that we don't want to feel,
we just don't want to hurt
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t h e b r o k e n o n e s
YOU ARE READING
sour hearts catered by hopeful souls | editing!
Poetryshe was a burned soul; inflamed by your euphoric lies believing that if she never told, she'd forget your soundless goodbye ▪▪ - LITTLE TO NO EDITING, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE GRAMMAR CORRECTIONS - | lowercase & no periods intended |
