I’m not the kind of girl
who throws out kisses and affections,
and I’m not the kind of girl
who gives out compliments like water.
As I’m not those, what kind of girl am I?
I’m the kind that prefers the dark,
the dark that doesn’t blind the eyes,
but the dark that allows secrets to be made.
Acts of goowill may draw you in, love,
but I’m not that kind of girl.
You may never know my love,
but that doesn’t mean that I’m not keeping it.
Silence is my friend, love,
and it strengthens the emotions-
emotions and connections that we call love.
Maybe I never truely learned the rules
to this game of heartbreak.
From what I know, love must be earned.
‘Tis the way my family treats it;
simply a medal, an ornament to be spurned.
Tossed away if not desired,
like Esua’s birthright.
What you have taught me of love
has made my understanding reach new levels.
You told me that I don’t have to earn the love,
where one heart and one heart become one flesh.
So what can I say?
How deeply have I hurt you with my inability to speak?
These clouds look so very grey.
What storm have I brewed up?
What pit of snakes have I angered?
Perhaps I admire the scenery too much.
Maybe I have a loose eye,
seeing nice looking guys and such.
Should I gouge it out,
as the Bible commands?
So long as what I don’t see doesn’t affect my heart or hands?
They say that beauty is in the eye,
the eye of the beholder.
If this is true, beautiful are you to me.
Can you ever forgive me?
I’m so unworthy.
I could never earn you,
not you or your love.
Will we make it through this season?
‘Tis one of broken hearts.
I can’t seem to say or do anything right,
and I know it smarts.
All I can ask for is a second chance,
and if forgiving was an art,
you, my love, would be a master,
and I am the mess made beautiful.