The beautiful shell
Disguises the beautiful hell
Loving you has led me to.
The miracle of this moment
Hides the jagged edge
And the potential of a fall.
But still, I carry on
For what choice do I have?
Except giving in
And waking up to the cold
Without you.
Without you to hold.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 