I am silver,
blemished and bent.
You are the uncut diamond,
waiting to be formed
into a ring
when I am finally polished,
made pure,
and am able to carry your light.
This, my love,
is the reason that we fight.
I am silver,
blemished and bent.
You are the uncut diamond,
waiting to be formed
into a ring
when I am finally polished,
made pure,
and am able to carry your light.
This, my love,
is the reason that we fight.
1 Comment
This poem really speaks to me. Wow.