Searching
Loving you, for me, is not the chore.
'Tis trying not to love that tests my soul.
Blinded by the thought of having you,
yet, unable to remember my life before.
Stabbing, tearing, wrenching my heart fully,
No peace comes and helplessly, I drown.
Haunted by the thought of never knowing,
The pain and longing are forever growing.
Terrified of the seeds I must be sewing,
The stabbing in my heart is never slowing.
Finding you, for me, is not the chore.
'Tis trying to forget that opens wounds.
Deafened by the sound of your soft voice,
yet, unable to turn my ear for want of more.
Jarring, twisting, warping my soul fully,
No peace comes and helplessly, I fall.
Haunted by the thought of letting go,
The pain and longing in my heart still grow.
Terrified to think that you might know,
And turn away from me when I bestow.
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