It’s buried. The passion I used to wear on my sleeve like a poet’s heart Buried beneath a cold and unlovely facade, That protects me from a world I no longer trust. It’s buried. The love, like a once, rosy cheeked child Torn to soon from his mother’s warm embrace Buried beneath earth and stone Keeping me cold and disheartened. It’s buried. The trust of a young girl searching for truth Gathered up in the arms of a magnificent lover. Buried beneath lies and deceit Bringing to me grief and cold.