What I really mean is, I'm content.
Not dancing souls together bent like rushes,
our two hearts close but not touching -
beating hearts that do not beat in time.
We do not rhyme; I do not echo you.
There is no raw red passion when we kiss - no spark,
or darkened corner in a dim-lit room -
no bliss of midnight ecstasy,
but just the misty grey of shadows on my heart.
I say my secret silently,
and do not share my tired no, but whisper a resounding yes -
nor do I smile as now you stroke my hair
and tell me how you love me;
it's so much easier to say
I love you too
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article