Black Poetry : Absence Does Not Make the Heart Grow Fonder

watzinaname

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Oct 4, 2003
16,326
125
Northeast
You said
Come with me
But I did not go
I thought our love
would hold us though
Through all the years
and all the tears
surely this was the stuff,
the glue, that would bind.
But I would learn that ours
was not the permanent kind
ours was weak
ours was flawed
words too precious to speak
emotions brimming, withheld.
Until the pot boiled over, steamin
and words shot out
like a cannon, I wasn't dreamin
Cause nightmares wouldn't
have pierced that deep
Bad dreams end
when we're not asleep.
I'm as wide awake
As I'm gonna get...
Isn't it over yet?
Isn't it over yet?
Absence does not make
the heart grow fonder.
It just makes a weak heart
turn stone cold.
 

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