I know a man that
when he speaks
it seems as though
butterflies singing
around his mouth
and that man is you
but I need power
to talk to you
and I find it all
in your modesty
and for all your honesty
birds don't fly away
happily feed on you
one more flower
wasted on you
by all those who
speak of majesty
and for all their dishonesty
birds do fly away
merrily come back to you
but I need power
to look you in the eye
and I can't find it at all
but I want to make you live
for thousands died looking at you
yet you never lived
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 4:27 AM UTC