I find guilt in your silence,
your eyes do betray,
the damage is done,
and you've nothing to say.
But the anger does come,
without much remorse,
I find myself feeling,
not better, but worse.
How could this be,
for not long ago,
you were eager to love,
at least, as I know.
But it has passed on,
to another it seems,
and now I am left,
with nothing but dreams
I find myself wandering,
through your garden of trust,
I'll do as I please,
I will do as I must.
And lost in the mist,
of your garden I find,
myself in the corner,
broken and crying.
Deserving perhaps,
I know right I am not,
but guilt in your silence,
is not what I sought.