Deep within I know my questions will be my bane.

Inside I know that it is not of feign.

I have my answers, of that I am sure.

The path I take is the cure.

 

My questions answered with sound from her lips,

and my heart clinging to the words before it slips.

Painting of the souls is what occurs in time,

when the hearts of ones who should be together, her’s and mine.

 

When ink and paint drip together,

my heart feels connected in a tether.

Questions still linger, but I hold hope.

They will weigh me down, with only her hand holding up this slope.