aklifaal
paranoyam da paranoyam
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2020
- Posts
- 743
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Well then! Since you will not leave my mind nor cease your pressing,
So be it—thus you’ve forced my hand to write this grave confessing.
Days, weeks, months, and years have fled like water, swift and thin;
Since last I saw your face, not once have you slipped from within.
Ah, in the springtide of my youth, in memory’s earliest gleam,
That first moment I beheld you—if my recollection holds its dream…
Those blue eyes of yours… those curls like embers softly cast…
And that faint smile—how like a splinter lodged within my heart it fastened, and has everlast.
But tell me, in your sight what worth had I? I ponder still.
Perhaps near nothing—some shattered memory adrift against your will.
While here I rot with longing, trapped within your silent ache,
Who knows with whom you laugh and roam, what merry trails you take?
Enough! My sorrowed soul needs not another word or plea;
This letter speaks not of my grief, but rather speaks of thee.
And now, one truth remains for you to know of me:
Behold how I hide behind my pen in trembling cowardry.
Yet had I placed upon your rosy cheeks a single tender kiss,
Had I but glimpsed the hidden thoughts behind those eyes of sapphire bliss,
And seen you once—ah, once again—if fate had so agreed,
My first true smile in years untold would blossom thanks to you indeed.
So be it—thus you’ve forced my hand to write this grave confessing.
Days, weeks, months, and years have fled like water, swift and thin;
Since last I saw your face, not once have you slipped from within.
Ah, in the springtide of my youth, in memory’s earliest gleam,
That first moment I beheld you—if my recollection holds its dream…
Those blue eyes of yours… those curls like embers softly cast…
And that faint smile—how like a splinter lodged within my heart it fastened, and has everlast.
But tell me, in your sight what worth had I? I ponder still.
Perhaps near nothing—some shattered memory adrift against your will.
While here I rot with longing, trapped within your silent ache,
Who knows with whom you laugh and roam, what merry trails you take?
Enough! My sorrowed soul needs not another word or plea;
This letter speaks not of my grief, but rather speaks of thee.
And now, one truth remains for you to know of me:
Behold how I hide behind my pen in trembling cowardry.
Yet had I placed upon your rosy cheeks a single tender kiss,
Had I but glimpsed the hidden thoughts behind those eyes of sapphire bliss,
And seen you once—ah, once again—if fate had so agreed,
My first true smile in years untold would blossom thanks to you indeed.
