A Picture Of Us
Read these words I write,
they are a scratching from my soul,
they are markings formed into words,
that play into life a bigger role.
Whisper out the lines you read,
touch upon the meaning so deep.
A tear once cried slowly bleeds,
into a starting beat of the hearts weep.
Life is made up of heartbeats and emotion,
and only I can dream my thoughts alive.
The only illusion I sometimes forget,
is that picture I still slowly contrive.
Nothing less than a thousand words,
often containing too high to count,
my pictures are worth more to me,
and I would never trade them out.
Yet share I will, especially with you,
for you understand my scratches.
Our eyes read upon the emotion inside,
and tear away these patches.
Now revealing the holes we have inside,
will show we are less than perfect.
Yet I am willing show my faults to you,
to give to you and gain your respect.
Never the least, but must be last,
is this passion I hold within.
It grows, to gain your trust and comfort,
in hopes someday you might let it in.