It certainly takes a lot,
More then just words.

To tell You,
How, one actually feels?
How much one needs?
How much one detest
to live, to love, to accept.

Then I looked up at You.
Your eyes, Your looks.
So calm, so detached.
I frisked my soul to find.
Do I really need You to know?

Words seems futile,
As, If you ever wanted to hear.
I wouldn't ever needed to mould my feelings,
Into regid form and create words.

Than Why to waste my feelings, my words.
On You, the one who never heard, My silence.