She opens the door swiftly, catching my slouching body at a startle.
Carefully clawing the couch, I do my best to be subtle.
She stands by the door in a simple fashion;
with soft hands gently rested at her waist.
I am haunted with thoughts of clenching them with mine.
Small talk and jokes roll of her tongue, amplifying carefree tones.
I gasp for an answer as my thoughts fall and swirl into her eyes.
Her beauty latches to a genuine soul; I only want to mold the key.
She smiles, brushing her hair with a single finger, but only my heart grins;
my mind tries to understand why.
It incloses me, trapped by the desire and timid wall.
Her figure skips my steps, silences my sounds; reverb's my rhythm.
The stage is still empty, no thunderous applause can inch me forward.
The melody is feasible and pure yet, its song is unrehearsed to her.
I can't raise the curtain and she still glows.
She hasn't heard the music; not even how it goes.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
She opens the door swiftly, catching my slouching body at a startle.
Carefully clawing the couch, I do my best to be subtle.
She stands by the door in a simple fashion;
with soft hands gently rested at her waist.
I am haunted with thoughts of clenching them with mine.
Small talk and jokes roll of her tongue, amplifying carefree tones.
I gasp for an answer as my thoughts fall and swirl into her eyes.
Her beauty latches to a genuine soul; I only want to mold the key.
She smiles, brushing her hair with a single finger, but only my heart grins;
my mind tries to understand why.
It incloses me, trapped by the desire and timid wall.
Her figure skips my steps, silences my sounds; reverb's my rhythm.
The stage is still empty, no thunderous applause can inch me forward.
The melody is feasible and pure yet, its song is unrehearsed to her.
I can't raise the curtain and she still glows.
She hasn't heard the music; not even how it goes.
Poem I never showed an old crush. **** our poet hearts.
