Your Surface caresses – the face –
Warm when the Sun is high,
When the Storm brews – you’re like a Whip –
How the Stars and Moon weigh,
Affecting your Tide upon us
Your Voice – is convincing –
Your Whispers – like Salt – on our wounds,
Though, through castles – slicing –
Built towards the Sky – by guided hands –
Curling over, crashing
Onto – raw – from tears shed – your Storms –
Born from Vengeance – washing –
Tainting what is held at – the heart –
Walls – swallowed – by shallow
Bitterness forced – our way – footprints
Swept – yet – we will follow
Jan 20, 2010
Jan 20, 2010 at 6:08 AM UTC
Your Surface caresses – the face –
Warm when the Sun is high,
When the Storm brews – you’re like a Whip –
How the Stars and Moon weigh,
Affecting your Tide upon us
Your Voice – is convincing –
Your Whispers – like Salt – on our wounds,
Though, through castles – slicing –
Built towards the Sky – by guided hands –
Curling over, crashing
Onto – raw – from tears shed – your Storms –
Born from Vengeance – washing –
Tainting what is held at – the heart –
Walls – swallowed – by shallow
Bitterness forced – our way – footprints
Swept – yet – we will follow
Written as an assignment in high school intending to mock the style of Emily Dickinson.