I am without poetry;
Without verse or rhyme.
I am cleansed of all torture;
Have no concept of time.
No longer frantic,
nor riddled with woe.
I have fled from self-pity
to a land of unknowns.
A space so reckless,
it tickles the skin.
My demeanour is calm
but I'm woozy within.
Love rushes to greet him,
palms slippy and warm.
Relieved that my body
Still longs for those arms.
Heat flows round the shadows;
My soul's once more kissed.
But I've been without poetry;
She's the one that I've missed.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
I am without poetry;
Without verse or rhyme.
I am cleansed of all torture;
Have no concept of time.
No longer frantic,
nor riddled with woe.
I have fled from self-pity
to a land of unknowns.
A space so reckless,
it tickles the skin.
My demeanour is calm
but I'm woozy within.
Love rushes to greet him,
palms slippy and warm.
Relieved that my body
Still longs for those arms.
Heat flows round the shadows;
My soul's once more kissed.
But I've been without poetry;
She's the one that I've missed.
