Poem: It was a Charade
Photo Credit: Aaron Burden

He missed, missed, misses, me

This is what, I'd truly believe: 

But I know, know now,

It was a charade working, against me

He missed, missed, misses me, so, it seems

But I know, know, know, now, we were never,

Meant to be: I cried, cried, cried,

Day and night, where tears seem

To followed me:

Yet, it did not bring, my beloved home,

To me: A now, closed and fragile heart,

Daydream that he did love, love, love me:

Whose fault, is it?

No one but the innocence of my,

My precious heart that forgot

The true meaning, of what love,

Is supposed to be!

Empress Journee