Linger.

I linger,
To hear stories left over,
A heart open,
Pain almost forgotten.

I linger,
In that forgotten place,
Of stolen minutes,
Etched in thawing ice.

I linger,
Her eyes telling more stories,
Blood shot tales,
Written in tears.

I linger,
To let her know I care,
Not for any reason,
But to be here.

I linger.

I was…was then…and again.

I was once a man

of ice and solid stone,

I man of little words,

A man that stood alone.

I was not always

this man of cold ice,

I once was too caring,

some would say too nice.

I lived a life ignoring

my feelings of distrust,

for living as a giver,

was a need,if not a must.

Let’s move through quickly,

the windows of my mind,

You’ll see some heartache,

like everyone in kind.

This made me stalwart,

and I lost my heart,

Until i found someone,

that made the beating start.

I became that person,

of love and belief,

and then the footsteps wandered,

and found a bit more grief.

The moral of this story,

the tale I wish to tell,

is I am better being lonely

inside an icy hell.

To give ones heart

to a dream never had,

will leave any soul,

lost and slightly sad.

Do I shed a tear

for my pitied tale,

or move ahead once again,

accepting of the fail.

I do not know really,

but in my thoughtful head,

perhaps the heart beats harder

when it’s slightly dead.