marysiak

It is a hollow kind of love, a trap That has no strength of time or place to claim That here I spent the hours upon your lap Just looking at your face within the frame Of my two hands while whispering your name. Instead an empty space inside me lies, With only my poor judgement there to blame That all I have are mirrors in disguise. Yet still it binds me hard against the rock, A sacrifice no longer innocent As my child self once was until the shock Of mid-day sun that burned without consent. This love without a promise of romance Leaves only tears and empty games of chance.