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Between The Lines
Look at me. No, I mean really look.
You say you can read me like a book.
Tell me…tell me what you see in me;
Is it what you wanted, or what I wanted to be?
You would not accept my tender heart,
My true love promised from the start.
Left sealed despite my ceaseless plea,
For only one twist of its tarnished key.
You would not hold my feminine trust.
Commitment buried midst the dust.
Belief in vows we long ago spoke
Now choked by the blindness of endless smoke.
You would not awaken my delicate dreams
Midst my silent, nightmarish screams
With merely a gentle touch or glance.
You were never willing to take that chance.
You chose to leave life’s volumes closed,
Without any feelings left exposed.
Not wanting to bind your life with mine…
No, that would take reading between the lines.
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