The way he doesn’t care
The way he’s never there
The cold that’s from his hand
The heart that’s rather dead
The beauty from his shame
The face without a name
The weight that’s on his shoulder
While blindly growing older
The pain won’t wash away
I love him still the same
I’m bleeding every night
I’m frail from too much sight
I wish on every star
A word, or whisper far
I pray that he’s alright
He’ll always be my knight
The twist and burn from silence
My mind fills up with violence
I scream without a sound
I’m lost and never found
I’m forging my own trail
Where life is simply stale
Sorrow spreads across the sky
From his silent goodbye
© Delia Ross. 2020
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