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desiree-ramirezPoems
& in this resonance of self-mutilation, beneath crystallized windowsills & broken needles, I found redemption. every Sunday evening her image is spilled in front of my very eyes. I can taste her tender soul & caress her juvenile smile; she whispers my name, succumbing. & I see her; through her. She lies beneath silver linen & broken atmospheres. She's wisdom in blinded eyes. I exhale. & as I glance deeper into the reflecting abyss I find myself in wonder; Is she who I search for, or is she who I sense to be? .... I still wonder, who is she.... guess I'll never know.
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Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
Reflected.
& in this resonance of self-mutilation, beneath crystallized windowsills & broken needles, I found redemption. every Sunday evening her image is spilled in front of my very eyes. I can taste her tender soul & caress her juvenile smile; she whispers my name, succumbing. & I see her; through her. She lies beneath silver linen & broken atmospheres. She's wisdom in blinded eyes. I exhale. & as I glance deeper into the reflecting abyss I find myself in wonder; Is she who I search for, or is she who I sense to be? .... I still wonder, who is she.... guess I'll never know.
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desiree-ramirez
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
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