The Writer’s Salvation

Affection, was it?

She asked me once how much I had for her.

But I never answered.

For I couldn’t be sure.

 

And even then,

She’ll stand by.

Though I did nothing,

Though I reply none in kind.

 

She chose to turn against the world,

Fought against time;

To be with me – a writer unrefined,

When she belongs in light and I, a shadow in grey lines.

 

A memory, was it?

Only when she was forever lost,

Did realization dawned;

I love her – more than the world could cost.

 

Our time from memory,

Only in fiction I could admit;

What her existence meant to me –

Salvation, was it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s