Poezja

I'll tell you of my secret confessions, 
Of all my lies and imperfections.
I'll tell you of all the love to display, 
For the hungry soul has much to say.

I'll start out with a simple question
To begin my tale of confessions.
Have you ever felt a love that grew
You know you will never love anew? 

My heart grew cold as I longed for his kiss.
Cupid shot his arrow and did not miss.
His spell made it hard to see tomorrow.
Living without him filled my heart with sorrow.

The screaming does not protest, 
Against a simple soft caress.
A small hidden truth is this: 
I fell in love by a gentle kiss.

True love can never be explained; 
It can tell a story but never be named.
My tale ends with a final confession: 
I love with all my heart; that's my imperfection.