How can words speak of love
when there is nothing left to say
and romance is the withered rose
cursed by pain
as affections turn against the tide
a single kiss dies on the lips
softly unspoken
lost in the reciting of ‘life moves on’
like a forgotten dream lost in the sunlight
never to be heard again
the pulse that once could resonate
with passion lies silent
battered and broken
so how does the voice sing
or murmur ‘I love you’
when there are only tears left to cry
© J Farmer 2013
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