My poem illuminates the night like a golden moon,
like fireflies on the trees, and the love I ever owned;
constructed feelings, somehow are still unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, how it kissed my skin.
It's not how our hearts intertwined all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind engorges reality, so slow, so slow,
that's when I write those lovely words only for you.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 5:27 AM UTC
My poem illuminates the night like a golden moon,
like fireflies on the trees, and the love I ever owned;
constructed feelings, somehow are still unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, how it kissed my skin.
It's not how our hearts intertwined all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind engorges reality, so slow, so slow,
that's when I write those lovely words only for you.
Thank you JOHN MAHONEY for giving such helpful feedback. I hope this gets better. :D
© 2012
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