It started with a touch,
Nothing new.
Just a touch, to the cheek.
Tenderness set forth a flood,
clear tears of hearts blood.
A total release of an emotional storm.
One cannot be hard forever.
And it just started with a touch.
In terror, warmth was in his arms.
Without thinking he held her,
felt her shake in his arms and knew.
The broken heart internal.
That bled unseen as she closed her eyes.
Safe for the moement,
One that was borrowed from time.
And it was the warmth in his arms.
Wounds of the past still bleed,
no not blood, but through tears,
Through a shaking form.
When one jumps from loud noises.
When one cannot stand the touch of stranger.
When eyes always watch.
Living a life of self distruction.
And the wounds still bleed.
Death comes quick when its half a life.
When your living too fast,
when your heart races for nothing.
When fire consumes the soul,
its like striking a match book,
yes it's bright and hot,
but it burns out too fast.
Empty thoughts and massive actions.
Death comed quick when it's a half a life.
