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richardperezPoems
It is not just the way that you move, much more or less the way in which you dress. The caliber of your presentation: it has no scope, no measurable standpoints.— For you are a poem with feet, and at one point God called you a star. But you are a song, who is gently prancing melodies that cure my maladies. And I want no one else to hear you when you sing. Because I want to be the only one who listens…listening until the day my bones run dry and no flesh, no carcass is left of me. And vultures shall feast upon my cruel skin, shivering in the dark rays of night, leaning over the crevices of my teeth. My teeth, the size of piano keys. You stick to me, and **** the life out of me like a silky, black ******* leech. And I love you too much, and you, perhaps too little. Giving you each and every inch of my purple heart; still not being enough. And still when you speak: it is with outstanding purpose and resolve. You spoke of love, even when love did not exist. As all eyes look towards you, and all ears lend their time to you too. As if you were a magnet that connects two distinguishing charges: grace and charm. Your wicked ways will be what I will die falling in love with. For every time I breathe slowly, and calmly, and every step I take, it is with confidence. I am not a broken machine, living in this mechanical planet: I will eternally, faithfully, and all of me will rise to you whenever you shall move dress sing **** me off speak…or… whenever you shall too love me, just enough.
0
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Varmints
It is not just the way that you move, much more or less the way in which you dress. The caliber of your presentation: it has no scope, no measurable standpoints.— For you are a poem with feet, and at one point God called you a star. But you are a song, who is gently prancing melodies that cure my maladies. And I want no one else to hear you when you sing. Because I want to be the only one who listens…listening until the day my bones run dry and no flesh, no carcass is left of me. And vultures shall feast upon my cruel skin, shivering in the dark rays of night, leaning over the crevices of my teeth. My teeth, the size of piano keys. You stick to me, and **** the life out of me like a silky, black ******* leech. And I love you too much, and you, perhaps too little. Giving you each and every inch of my purple heart; still not being enough. And still when you speak: it is with outstanding purpose and resolve. You spoke of love, even when love did not exist. As all eyes look towards you, and all ears lend their time to you too. As if you were a magnet that connects two distinguishing charges: grace and charm. Your wicked ways will be what I will die falling in love with. For every time I breathe slowly, and calmly, and every step I take, it is with confidence. I am not a broken machine, living in this mechanical planet: I will eternally, faithfully, and all of me will rise to you whenever you shall move dress sing **** me off speak…or… whenever you shall too love me, just enough.
This may be or may not be a poem but I'm glad I shared it with you.
#love#poem#poetry#live#varmints
richardperez
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richardperez
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
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