I wish I could find the book titled you,
The haphazard bounded and embroidered
Cover with pages spilling golden rue
And blurred lines under every lovely word…
But I don’t know where to look anymore
Or if my heart wants to ache like it did.
I couldn’t burn the secrets or foreswore
And forget the love seared on my eyelids…
But my thrum is in the eyes of a man,
Laced in every vein, waiting on his lips
Like a drug deal not according to plan
And your relapse stinging like poison whips.
I’ve held and been held by this book in dreams
And secret studies full of rouge sunbeams.
Perhaps this diversion is what I needed;
Maybe someday I'll learn to stop the bleeding?
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
I wish I could find the book titled you,
The haphazard bounded and embroidered
Cover with pages spilling golden rue
And blurred lines under every lovely word…
But I don’t know where to look anymore
Or if my heart wants to ache like it did.
I couldn’t burn the secrets or foreswore
And forget the love seared on my eyelids…
But my thrum is in the eyes of a man,
Laced in every vein, waiting on his lips
Like a drug deal not according to plan
And your relapse stinging like poison whips.
I’ve held and been held by this book in dreams
And secret studies full of rouge sunbeams.
Perhaps this diversion is what I needed;
Maybe someday I'll learn to stop the bleeding?
Had a strange dream and figured I'd write a poem about how I was feeling
Request permission to use this poem