Beautiful

Beautiful

Pulling back the curtain on a bright summer morning

looking to the light before me

awaiting a familiar sound or smell

I know hell will never see

Beauty

the joy which causes much thought

something which cannot be bought.

a simple sigh, with a glance

I’m glad for such a chance, to whisper to feel your touch

where nothing seem to matter

but sounds of thumping inside, I hope soon will subside

where listening becomes awaiting hell

beauty becomes unclear.

where joy, whisper, a touch on my ear.

I hope it finds me again

That which was much more than a friend