don’t tell me I’m brave

don’t tell me I’m brave

Don’t tell me I’m brave,
my dear, my friend,
when all my shameful shielding of some
bigger truth sold me as a
demon in the hearts of every
single one
I hurt.
And you think that sentence begins
and falls with my violence, my impulsive
bite, but it begun with sweet
love,
such warm sweet love,
and ended with a
drawing desire to be
perfect.
I’m sorry I was so
much to handle, bellowing brightness
such an ugly, foul colour. But
the passion I held was fuller than
the squirm of my hip under
self-conscious behaviour.
It was eternal and we were eternal and
there was nothing I felt in my heart
more often than
love.
And there was never anyone
quite
like you;
golden-brown eyes, soft, dark
hair for a soft, dark man filled with
justice and dedication and
a mind more pure than
any
before.
Don’t tell me I’m brave,
my love,
when all my shameful shielding of some
bigger truth sold me as a
demon in the hearts of every
single one
I hurt and the
only truth that ever
weighed was the fact that
you were so
magnificent
and there was never
anyone
I could ever be in love with,
aside
from
you.

– Charlotte Griffiths

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s