You do not know about the poems I wrote for you; Or the letters I never sent.
If only I was as brave as I feigned to be,
you couldn't see how fragile I was amidst it all.
The days I missed you; and the days I loved you,
It made no difference as to the reason I held my book and pen.
My emotions give me away as I scribble furiously to find the perfect words.
I guess I need holy water to cleanse my sins completely, Is it too late to let you know?
©tamara
T