Butterfly

I held you. All the while knowing, that all you wanted to do was run away. You were a beautiful butterfly made to roam around, to try and hold you down was never an option. But was I selfish for not accepting this truth? For trying to stop you from flying away, for wanting you…

Looking down

In awe of your work  Filled with wonder at your greatness  Constantly marvelling at your never ending grace  At all times I feel your love guiding me to greater things

J’adore

I hate to talk of love For I’m naive in its intricacies Lead by untamed ideology No raw, intense emotion Observed only watered down glimpses Of this thing they call love. Princesses kissing frogs, White picket fences And happy ever afters.

The game of love

Started as a game of tit for tat,  now we are unto peek-a-boo, but one time you will open your eyes and notice that it’s too late. The game is over.

She’s gone

He gazes onwards, unaware that she is no longer there beside him is the husk of a woman that once was, but is no more.