That I shall ever trust him again in this life is a mystery,
Bitter, icy malice of the reaper who haunts the likes of me.
Lost in unfinished dreams that echo of the torment of slumber,
Evoking dark tremors night after night, far too many to number.
Awaken to reality in all the brightness of the light of this day,
Wrapped in illusions of us and the fact I must now have to pay.
The frozen rain that crackles in the once full,and glowing parts,
The love I keep safe inside the walls, inside my heart of hearts.
Copyright © Michele Osborn, 2011
All Rights Reserved
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