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Onscreen ******

a circling vortex of disarray

starts inside my head

clasped by unsure

yet supportive hands

the helpless recesses of which

lets the sycophantic white light of my desktop monitor

summoned upon a wretched click

scatter on this scattered face

forming a weak shield

amalgamated by the desolation

and imbecility of a roadside orphan

ignorant but lasting

on the crumbs left over

from a stranger's life

 

a familiar unsettling sound

cracks open this pale shield

and my brooding eyes open

to see her making contact

one instant

one magical instant,

and die the next

leaving my impressioned eyes

wanting more

i lie, lie to myself

when the truth is

there woud be no more

of her tonight

 

retreating never meant giving up

and i do retreat,

to escape the insanity

of her charm get to me

amidst real affection

to run away while wanting to look back

when an embrace is just outside my door

desperately wanting to hear that unsettling sound

which drowns the familiar sounds of laughter

 

the circling vortex now inherent

inside my head

clasped by my helpless

supportive hands

the helpless recesses of which

lets the servile white light of a numb monitor

trace my tears

 

oh how I weep

to be her onscreen ******

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Written by
aaron
Indian
Published
Mar 31, 2013
Lines·Words
45·208
Permission

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