in the muddied waters where corpses float
the moon shimmers on the lazy surface
of a tired stream, gliding on it
with the ease meant for those
that dream during sunny days
and those that ravage the stormy nights
but how can I pursue my joy
when it runs
from me
I gallop on the coast of life
yet coasting on its slide
contradicting myself in every way
I see the eyes of my estranged breeze
as she jovially brushes the branches of trees
as she makes once lifeless leaves fly
as she caresses each cheek
only mine remains unkissed
and yet she flows on
leaving me behind
so I ignore her
never asking for readmittance
back into her torrential storms
to suffer with glee
the hailstones of her affection
instead I built myself a shelter
and hid myself
from her gloried love
in an oakened parlour
where a private man sits
his brows furrow
face hardened
by the whips of life
his calloused hands
stay steady
as his breath shallows
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
as he sits in his prison
a castle devoted to him
vacuumed of all air
his heart beats slower
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
his glance rests
at the tinted window
and he is able to peer
outside
and see his breeze
still rustling about
with disagreeable fellows
those not worthy of her touch
he would break down those doors
gladly
to dance once more in the rain
instead, I sit, a private man
alone, with no companion
watching my breeze
engulf the world
with her dance
the shimmering wisps
of autumn's hair
rays of sun
like spears in the air
piercing through flesh and soul
arrows of Eros doing their duty
and all around
my castle of isolation
lay everyone
blissfully torn by the steel of love
breathless, while I still breathe
my breeze neglects me
for I was not worthy
I did not rise
to meet her challenge
I refused
to adhere to her demand
her demand
that…
simply…
I must love her.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
in the muddied waters where corpses float
the moon shimmers on the lazy surface
of a tired stream, gliding on it
with the ease meant for those
that dream during sunny days
and those that ravage the stormy nights
but how can I pursue my joy
when it runs
from me
I gallop on the coast of life
yet coasting on its slide
contradicting myself in every way
I see the eyes of my estranged breeze
as she jovially brushes the branches of trees
as she makes once lifeless leaves fly
as she caresses each cheek
only mine remains unkissed
and yet she flows on
leaving me behind
so I ignore her
never asking for readmittance
back into her torrential storms
to suffer with glee
the hailstones of her affection
instead I built myself a shelter
and hid myself
from her gloried love
in an oakened parlour
where a private man sits
his brows furrow
face hardened
by the whips of life
his calloused hands
stay steady
as his breath shallows
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
as he sits in his prison
a castle devoted to him
vacuumed of all air
his heart beats slower
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
his glance rests
at the tinted window
and he is able to peer
outside
and see his breeze
still rustling about
with disagreeable fellows
those not worthy of her touch
he would break down those doors
gladly
to dance once more in the rain
instead, I sit, a private man
alone, with no companion
watching my breeze
engulf the world
with her dance
the shimmering wisps
of autumn's hair
rays of sun
like spears in the air
piercing through flesh and soul
arrows of Eros doing their duty
and all around
my castle of isolation
lay everyone
blissfully torn by the steel of love
breathless, while I still breathe
my breeze neglects me
for I was not worthy
I did not rise
to meet her challenge
I refused
to adhere to her demand
her demand
that…
simply…
I must love her.