An uncolourful evanescence of passion,
tarries beneath the surface of your smile.
Though you seem sinful in your beauty,
a frustration fondles your thoughts.
An emotion runs thick through your skin,
and yet,
you act placid, serene.
Like some other worldly angel,
unaffected by the inconvenience of human sentiment.
Fluid, even movements occupy your person,
as if fury calms you,
as if mind and cadaver function impartial to the other.
I long to catch sight of some small imperfection,
but only your dearest may see you sincere.
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
An uncolourful evanescence of passion,
tarries beneath the surface of your smile.
Though you seem sinful in your beauty,
a frustration fondles your thoughts.
An emotion runs thick through your skin,
and yet,
you act placid, serene.
Like some other worldly angel,
unaffected by the inconvenience of human sentiment.
Fluid, even movements occupy your person,
as if fury calms you,
as if mind and cadaver function impartial to the other.
I long to catch sight of some small imperfection,
but only your dearest may see you sincere.
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