Pain And Tenderness

She pours from me
Onto the page.
My heart beats alone in a cage.
My bleeding pen
Flashes in rage.
Yet knows
That I can never address
The true pain
And the tenderness.
She soars from me
Into the skies.
She claws from me
Every disguise.
Yet bathes my aching soul
As it dies.
My passion,
Like a speeding express.
In a dungeon
I lay and obsess.
About the true pain
And tenderness.
She flies from me
In empty sunset.
She cries on me
From clouds above.
Her kiss
And that smokey red dress
Fill my morning
With visions of soft caress.
And scent of love.
Yet my words
Lack the pain and tenderness
Of the first sunrise.
What's never written on the page
Is written in the eyes.
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1 Response May 9, 2012