The stillness of hidden truth

 We lie awake in different beds, 

Our compromises feeling so fake. 

In the stillness, love hangs by threads, 

Promises we vowed never to break. 

 

Silence fills the room with truth. 

Empty spaces echo our residue. 

Promises made in the dark, uncouth, 

Shattered like fragile art, what we once knew. 

  

And the tears we hid, they stained the sheets 

In a gallery of shared regrets, 

Hearts have broken, so we're searching for their beats 

Museum of portraits of love, where forgiveness forgets. 

Reviews

[Vol]

Skyler,
Broken love is apparently the norm these days. My grandparents were married for 76 years and theirs were the softest, sweetest kisses I have ever see, and so powerful were they, I still melt when I close my eyes to see him bend down to he, she looking up into his eyes and them melting their lips together... becoming one.