The Hands of the World are Crashing Together

Who’s to say when love dies?
Or if it ever does?
I don’t think you can ever really
count on yourself
to stay your hand or your heart.

Come and sit with me,
these chairs are high backed
and beautifully packed,
and I will tell you all the
colours of my heart
and the hate in my soul
and the love in my breast.
But if she crossed the room
I can’t say I wouldn’t follow her
with my eyes
or that I wouldn’t be trying not to.

Love simmers like a forgotten kettle
and every joyous once in a while
it boils over
but the once lit flame stays alight
through all the dark days
and cold nights of your life.

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9 thoughts on “The Hands of the World are Crashing Together

  1. Hey, I can’t find you on the rate my poetry blog. No wait, I think I found you. Never mind. Giving you a rating. Of course its a zero. 🙂
    Kidding.
    Like the new site. Love the cat. Eeeeeeeery.

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