[mybeta-blog1]

The climb. Gripping sharp edges sliced skin and labored breathing all for the ascent.

Tyler Loeslein

[mybeta-blog1]

You don’t love me. 

I can hear it in the silence, and even in the indifferent way you speak to me. 

Your calming touch now shoots anxiety down my spine. 

You don’t love me. 

I no longer yearn for your love that I once craved for so long. 

Your arms have become less like home and more like a padded cell. 

You don’t love me. 

Part of me wonders, do you even realize that you’re not mine. 

Were you there the day the spark flew from my eyes. 

Do you notice my chin on my chest as I walk next to you. 

Do you see the ache in my eyes when you whisper to the baby,

or the hurt in my heart to see your face light up as the puppy wags her tail. 

You do not waste your calming and warm voice on me. 

With me you are cold. 

You don’t love me. 

[mybeta-blog1]

Pluck a pebble from the top of your favorite climb,

Place it in a ring, and give me your heart,

That is all that really matters...the simple things, 

What you love, and someone that loves you. 

Just as you hold the mountain in your hands, I shall hold you in mine. 

Just as the mighty view steals your breath, you will always steal mine.