When words don’t appear

There is this
this this temptation
to reveal the truth
of this feeling
but what would be the point?

When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand.

The truth is
she brings me comfort
with a glance
and what do I bring
but silence.

When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand

peaceful, but for the
screams

in her own way

she, is misunderstood
she brings forth such, sorrow
rather like, mist in moonlight
where the path is hidden
and the trees with their dark foliage
hide their beauty in shadows

she is, beneath it all
beneath her shadow
deep beneath the roots of her dark mystery
she is, in her own way
a spectre of love

she loves … she wishes she could love
as tenderly as those mists
as magical as that moon
as soft as those beautiful leaves
but her gothic soul, crumbles
at the very thought of,

life.