Tangle

The more things I do

To try to set things right

The more of a tangle I find myself in

There is no deeper understanding over the web

I cannot see your face

Or touch your hair

And you will in the end

Impute all kinds of motives

Into what I do

Now the damage is done

Things cannot be repaired

The simplicity and grace of life has been stolen

What started out as beautiful kind and true

Has now become dust

Mistakes were made

And my own confusion

Brought about the death of something

So precious

It will be missed

But there will sadly be no way to tell of the loss

Which will remain

Forever silent

A painful sore deep inside

I return to over and over and over