The poet's heart.

by BlueDreams

No uttered words the poet speaks,
No skies of golden hue,
No tales of unrequited love,
They were lost when I lost you.

No words to caress his lover's heart,
And gone the dreams he swore they'd live,
But alone within the poet dwells,
No uttered words... none left to give.

No music swells within his soul,
Just silence surrounds his heart,
And the solitude engulfs his world,
When the poet and love depart.

And lost the beauty he once could see,
And the glory he saw each day,
Now the poet pens his last farewell,
No more love can he convey.

But what's the poet's soul to do?
To release the love he feels,
For he'll surely die and wither,
If that love he now conceals.

He must hide the hurt and heartache,
Just smile to friends and say,
I'm fine... love doesn't matters,
And deceive them all that way.

For a different face he'll show them,
To barricade his pain,
To hide his shattered spirit,
From the love he ne'er attained.

But the pain within shall kill him,
Not soon but through the years,
For the poet knows his anguish,
When alone he sheds her tears.

And at night when dreams come calling,
With her voice, her smile... her eyes,
A single tear upon his cheek,
Hides the pain his heart belies.

For he loved her soul completely,
Was consumed by beauty's bliss,
Had shared her inner thoughts,
But never shared her kiss.

And when death comes to the poet,
And to heaven his soul ascends,
He'll smile before her beauty,
For eternity never ends.

So will the poet regret the life,
Which stole away the years,
No he'll simply recall the love,
He felt in all her tears.

And when his love has joined him,
And they meet in heaven's bliss,
Their regrets will quickly perish,
As they kiss their first sweet kiss.

And the words will quickly flow again,
From my thoughts, to hand... to book,
I'll not write of God or Heaven,
When upon your face I look.

So the poet's again a poet,
For the words were always there,
I just didn't see much beauty,
When your love I couldn't share.

So their souls will find the love at last,
That in life they could not seek,
And the poet soon finds the words in you...
The words... he could not speak.