We're all searching for eternity in another's heart
Craving comfort in another's unyielding arms.
They say that you're just 'existing' until you surrender your soul to
the 'divinity' of love.
Is this your idea of 'living'?
Our relationship is still nothing but scraps in a notebook and
I hold it to my heart, but it feels- bare.
I keep flickering through
searching for my 'reason for being' between the pages of our/dead/.end/affection.
Because I never found it, there in your arms.
I write verse after verse of -blank-poetry
Finding solitude within the very same pages, where we laid our love
finding myself cloaked in the very same sheets,
we wrapped ourselves in,
Hidden for the reality of our strained'love'
I wish I could lay my heart to this page and deny the undeniable
Truth that words tend to be inadaquate
I tend to feel
There's nothing I can say to convey the complexity of my stance in this
uncertainy that they call 'LIFE'/Existence/-just existing
While I walk through'life' translating my incessant philosophies into blank prose
tring to find the meaning of my existance
Searching for eternity in the love of another when...
Can eternity really exist
in another's heart?....
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Bits and pieces of me...