Sending, For You
words that in my heart spill tear,
I wonder when,
in her hands will life remain,
or has the passion disappeared,
as quickly the sheath tossed aside.
spilled ink in various form,
touch the soul,
speak of love,
the eyes will never know,
only the heart can perhaps tell
her reaction is slow,
a forgotten reminder of life before
the notion may have ever occur.
Inside the security of safe manifest,
would that the glue never release,
just the symbol of name and time and aging …
would the contents ever breathe.