Truth Hurts Sometimes

Happy not, too slow to speak.
Angels cry, then sing to sleep
My troubled conscience–
Now I weep.

See you pass by, wonder why
Things have to be the way they are
Between you and me.
Do you have a clue?

Cry tonight until you fall
On your hands and knees.
Now you sprawl across the floor–
Only an echo of my presence left to tell.

Where did we go wrong?
Was it at hello or goodbye,
Or in between?
What I would have given to have seen

How things would turn out in the end.
So what is next for you and me?
Do we go on, or sit and sulk?
Time will tell if there is any hope.

Maybe we can start over, perhaps,
With a kind word or two.
I could say that I love you,
But would it be true?


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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