Beautiful, cried
It's so beautiful how a woman cries. Simple heartaches she never speaks of. Never does she even allows herself the telkings of the heart. So splendid are what dreams bring, yet, all she can do is just briefly describe, abstractly, the scenes to those involved. And as she dreams no mention of reality is proposed.
Sadly as her dreams and hopes are spread wide in these tenderly placed moments, she realizes that never will he admit anything. To do so would break him. And as she is viewing these things long down the road, all that left of her is to cry.
And that one tiny hope gives in and when he finally breaks his silence, forgoing the memories of crazy sexual days, he stand lingering on a fact she has known all along. And still as she reads his face he says nothing.
Causing sobs to boil out of her. The only thing she can do is run.
So all I ask is don't mind this when you read.
Her beautiful sight is only to recall the dream as more tears follow. Sentiment can be carried for decades.
And as I say this laying on my bed, tears streaming, all I can do is say you have to admit it. La sarcasm drips as i too know the reality.
In the dream, decades later the words, the actions and need is pressed. And even you beg. Yet I awaken just as you ask something, of some importance. Just the recollections of you explaining why you need me. That is depth beyond your years. And knowing how hard you tried to say things I applauded you for your efforts. Annoying you with my defences mechanisms.
I still felt that sincerity you were projecting. Oh how you pleaded. Acting a fool in front of people. Alas if you only knew.
It is true, how beautiful a woman cries in these moments. Displaying so much of her vulnerable self to predators. And clearly she doesn't care. That is depth, at this moment, you cannot comprehend. But one day, you too, will feel it.
Alas, don't mind this as you read.
It is written by a woman who cried after a dream of truths. Hope still vibrates throughout her.
Sadly as her dreams and hopes are spread wide in these tenderly placed moments, she realizes that never will he admit anything. To do so would break him. And as she is viewing these things long down the road, all that left of her is to cry.
And that one tiny hope gives in and when he finally breaks his silence, forgoing the memories of crazy sexual days, he stand lingering on a fact she has known all along. And still as she reads his face he says nothing.
Causing sobs to boil out of her. The only thing she can do is run.
So all I ask is don't mind this when you read.
Her beautiful sight is only to recall the dream as more tears follow. Sentiment can be carried for decades.
And as I say this laying on my bed, tears streaming, all I can do is say you have to admit it. La sarcasm drips as i too know the reality.
In the dream, decades later the words, the actions and need is pressed. And even you beg. Yet I awaken just as you ask something, of some importance. Just the recollections of you explaining why you need me. That is depth beyond your years. And knowing how hard you tried to say things I applauded you for your efforts. Annoying you with my defences mechanisms.
I still felt that sincerity you were projecting. Oh how you pleaded. Acting a fool in front of people. Alas if you only knew.
It is true, how beautiful a woman cries in these moments. Displaying so much of her vulnerable self to predators. And clearly she doesn't care. That is depth, at this moment, you cannot comprehend. But one day, you too, will feel it.
Alas, don't mind this as you read.
It is written by a woman who cried after a dream of truths. Hope still vibrates throughout her.
Comments
Post a Comment