Hidden secrets
Is it possible that you could love me,
this old carcass of a ruined wreck,
abused and devastated into shambles
of a good for nothing anymore?
When love is at its truest and most constant,
she is also at her coyest and most vulnerable
and keeps secretive and silent
for the case of her maintenance,
like a flame kept safe through any storm.
Thus silence speaks sincerely
with no voice except her inner light
which in her truth and lasting loyalty
outshines the brightest star in any darkness.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 424 times
Written on 2009-01-10 at 12:03
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