Just made a few little changes so i thoughto repost it
They ask me "do you love him?"
What type of question is that?
How am I supposed to know what love is,
if it's even anything at all.
I mean yeah i dream about him.
Yes, I think of him,
and yes when I'm with him I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
But do I love him?
I find myself asking this question frequently.
I sometimes wake up thinking yes, i do love him.
Then later I think, how the hell do i know that, i don't know what love is.
I hear people saying love is all of these things, things like: love is talking to someone on the phone for hours just to hear their voice, Love is thinking of them all the time.
But do they really know, does anyone really know what love is.
No, I don't love him, I'm incapable of loving.
I've built a wall in my heart from all of my previous pain,
not to let anything else in.
But then again I can still hear the beating of his heart in my ear,
From the other night, laying on the couch.
I can still feel his chest supporting my head,
and his arms around me.
The comfort,and security of it, the magical feeling it gave me.
I can still remember every word, every little touch.
So do I love him?
Well I guess love is different for everyone.
But, yes I do think I love him in my own little way.
I love him the only way I'm capable of loving,
with half a heart.
Is that really love though?
Those are my questions,
my questions without answers.
Poetry by Rhia
Read 902 times
Written on 2006-06-16 at 23:03
Tags Question Love Answer
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Questions without answers
They ask me "do you love him?"
What type of question is that?
How am I supposed to know what love is,
if it's even anything at all.
I mean yeah i dream about him.
Yes, I think of him,
and yes when I'm with him I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
But do I love him?
I find myself asking this question frequently.
I sometimes wake up thinking yes, i do love him.
Then later I think, how the hell do i know that, i don't know what love is.
I hear people saying love is all of these things, things like: love is talking to someone on the phone for hours just to hear their voice, Love is thinking of them all the time.
But do they really know, does anyone really know what love is.
No, I don't love him, I'm incapable of loving.
I've built a wall in my heart from all of my previous pain,
not to let anything else in.
But then again I can still hear the beating of his heart in my ear,
From the other night, laying on the couch.
I can still feel his chest supporting my head,
and his arms around me.
The comfort,and security of it, the magical feeling it gave me.
I can still remember every word, every little touch.
So do I love him?
Well I guess love is different for everyone.
But, yes I do think I love him in my own little way.
I love him the only way I'm capable of loving,
with half a heart.
Is that really love though?
Those are my questions,
my questions without answers.
Poetry by Rhia
Read 902 times
Written on 2006-06-16 at 23:03
Tags Question Love Answer
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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by RhiaLatest textsMy Sonnet 116I Can' do that The real me Starlight Starbright Waiting |
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