A Gentle Lingering

Your gentle words make me cry,
But there’s no-one here to dry these eyes,

Your gentle hands type their byes,
But aren’t here to quieten my sighs.

Your gentle words make me cry,
But your not here to dry my eyes.

You didn’t have to be a mess,
I didn’t have to keep applying such stress,

You could’ve helped us suffer less,
I didn’t have to resort to states of undress.

You didn’t have to make this mess,
I share a greater blame, I must I confess.

I still see you opening the door,
I think we long to enjoy it some more,
But are stuck being chained bores,
Stuck in winning only at repetitive plays of score.

We didn’t have to fuck this up,
I shouldn’t have told you why it all sucked,
Roasting our burns and opening our scars,
Allowing our love to be burn and cooked.

Why didn’t your words come out?
Why didn’t your rail and shout?
Why is passion and rage a hidden simmering sight?
Why could you not have put up a fight?

Your gentleness lingers and makes me weep,
My worded passions will forever run deep,

Your emotions play half bright at best,
I hope that God allows me to pass this test.

Your gentle words make me cry.

But you won’t return to dry these eyes;
kiss my lips;
lay in unwedded bliss;

help us move on,
together as one,
forever at home,
within each other’s arms,

forgetting all of this shit.