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clemence-huetPoems
It could possibly be magnetic Something in the caligraphy of my actions I cannot control When the wind blows I follow If the word had not been abandoned I would swear this was perfection My marauder My undoing Speckles of tranquility settle At the bottom of my subconscious Like sediments in a lake Slowly it thickens Slowly I am no longer the fraud Now I open my eyes into miles of sand Looking to the sun with eyes closed An insect sheds its skin so delicately That he appears a ghost And if blue were blue I would already be gone The twisting kaleidoscope of colour Confused for one shade Again the corners turn in Becoming a cocoon
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Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
If Blue Were Blue
It could possibly be magnetic Something in the caligraphy of my actions I cannot control When the wind blows I follow If the word had not been abandoned I would swear this was perfection My marauder My undoing Speckles of tranquility settle At the bottom of my subconscious Like sediments in a lake Slowly it thickens Slowly I am no longer the fraud Now I open my eyes into miles of sand Looking to the sun with eyes closed An insect sheds its skin so delicately That he appears a ghost And if blue were blue I would already be gone The twisting kaleidoscope of colour Confused for one shade Again the corners turn in Becoming a cocoon
clemence-huet
Written by
clemence-huet
French
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
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