Your bitter...
bittersweet.
Your ripe for the picking,
A rare delight,
you think your ready but your not.
You talk about things for the months ahead
but do nothing for the now;
for now is what I want,
for now is what you need to grow.
Appearances are deceitful
but I don't judge,
you look oh so sweet on the outside,
unable to lock away your juices,
but on the inside, you are
lost & confused on search for you.
Spring is the sign of
new lives starting & rebirth,
thats what I thought
we could had, we would have.
Instead, I feel you are
distant, like Autumn, almost dead,
about to fall from your tree,
only to be covered by
a frigid reality,
of you without me.
Maybe you will get blown
away, from your home,
& everything you known.
All for things you don't
want to comprehend,
I am nothing to you but
A whisper in the Wind.
this is a real good touching poem... i read this and i feel my self as the person writing it..in such little word it has great power to it and anyone who has been in this situation..should understand this poem quite well...mr. clyke...ur a natural!
omg that hurt me so much and i dont know why its so truthful its almost as if you wrote it for me and your feelings are my mans and i am the beautiful fruit and leaves falling to my death without him....how sad