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The Things I'll Never Say
June 18, 2011
His touch was not soft,
Just hidden behind piteous respect,
An act he claimed and threw off,
And, curled in his pride, he I could not reject.
His voice, like rocks grinding off each other,
Caught me as bait in his trap,
And I know he'll have another,
Who's sanity will smolder and flap.
But his eyes were blue with wonder,
As I allowed his pride to strangle me.
His breath hot, like rolling thunder,
Creating a storm I refused to flee.
And now, as shards of tears fall,
I know I loved him through it all.
© Sandy H., Woodbridge, CT
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