Kiran Speaks

I’ve written a song of grief, words from the heart of death.
Wrote lyrics for endless sorrow and a heart breaking every breath.
I’ve written with ink dipped in darkness even with its call for blood.
But I have never written a song for my love.

So pure a force, how could it harm?
The comfort with peace like a lover’s arms.
Where art thou, the endless joy?
A mind of games, a relentless ploy.
A lashing whip with an edge of steel, oh love, my love, I’ve yet to heal.

I’ve written a song of loss, a hymn of untold tears.
Wrote poems for shadows, filled with crooked fears.
I’ve used keys to play a note, tracing scars from glass shards.
But I have never written a song for my love.

Why is the light so dark and the dark so bright?
My heart so wary, to fight or take flight?
Peeling layer from layer, you pull away the clothes,
letting my secrets bleed, holding I, your thornless rose.
With passion like fire, searing my skin, oh love, my love, you’re becoming my sin.

I’ve written a song of lies, a melody smouldering hurt.
A tune of dying cries, as I burn and burn and burn.
I’ve breathed a million words, that linger in corners hushed.
But here thou shalt be my song for my love.