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HR B Feb 2011
when I see you
I want to strum a chord
water flowers
make footprints in the sand
when I see you
I want to write write write
and let the silence of my vocal chords
make room for truth
when I see you
I want to create something beautiful and lasting
to show the world what its missing if it doesn't know you
to fill every moment that lacks eye contact with warmth
when I see you
I want to configure a new word
a word no one has heard or read
but everyone has felt and attempted to explain
when I see you
I want to see you
with your eyes and my eyes
window through window
to try the depths of our increasingly less imaginary story
when I see you
I want to paint a portrait of my heart
only using every shade you've caused me to blush
and pin that canvas to my sleeve
when I see you
I want to fill my lungs with oxygen and you
allowing the pressure on my ribcage
to prove this is real
© wordswithmypulse
HR B Jan 2011
look into those windows and see inside yourself.

look into the living room and see that beating valve which has taken the place of a couch.

look into the chimney and see those reels of dream turn to ash.

look into your hands and see the gears, the gears, the gears.

look into your ears and see the words that were rejected by your membranes.

look into your stomach and see the insecure skeletons.

look into your sequined brain and see the chemicals, the chemicals, the chemicals.
© wordswithmypulse
HR B Jan 2011
I want to hear the words
that come out of your mouth.
I wish I could see them forming in your brain
then coming out a little south.
I would crawl into that cranium
and be surrounded by your deliriums.
I would stroll around your memories.
knock on doors that lead to your own realities;
the malleable perceptions that you resort to during deflections.
I want to see what you see
and hear sounds through your ears.
I want your nerves to be mine,
get familiar with your gears.
I want to know the back of your hand
like I know my own.
But I wont enter your heart.
No, I'll leave that alone.
The asylum for your darkest parts is not mine to rearrange.
Nor would I if I could, there's not a thing that I would change.
© wordswithmypulse

— The End —