Today is National Poetry Day in the UK.
So, here is a poem I wrote. because I am a writer, and however much this form scares me, when you can embrace it well, it is glorious.
The Internal Ache
I don’t deserve this care, yet you remain: wound around my heart; soft, quiet constriction.
A measured passion forms constant desires:
you won’t desert me, trapped in our affliction.
I search for those reciprocal beliefs, within the skeptic depths of my bruised soul.
You have arrived before an answer’s found: a promise bound, to make these two a whole.
Inevitable fate may yet be true: contradictions of myself in you.
I sense a shocking lack of fit response: I own no solid truth to reach or grasp,
but this is where I know that I should be.
You watch my struggle with the thing you ask:
to try and look within where words are caught, inside the heart so scared to answer back.
Your patience while I struggle gives me strength, a constance as I crave the words I lack.
I will always love you, but can’t say now: these words never enough to show you how.
Words are hard, you know.