Love is the exquisite pain
The poetry of sultry rain
in unison with our breathing
Fogging the windows
Before the hollow siroccos moan
cold grey lonely
Hallways dim
Velvet Sorrows
Blackened
Walls of the new moon
void of our lungs'
illustrations
Even now in memory's whisps
How exquisite the frame
Picturesque recollection
Polaroid for the finality of farewell
Just us / ghosts now
Without / but dust / once was
None-such eyes / dilates
Can emptiness be
Felt
En flagrante glaciers
Enflamed diminishment?
Seems the loud moments remain
Drowned the reasons of its thundering
All intentions deigned since
Defeated slump with
No dire aches
Mumbling
a corpse heavy mind
Lacking a fleet of feeling to combat self hateful
Blight
Gone in the gloom
Which is palpable like the taste of smoke
That carries warning signals to the sun
with the ****** of native drums
Going
Gone
will o' whispering past
Yet shadows are forgetful in dreams
As we are sleeping to wake
In the beams
Memory echoing from touch
Our bodies quake...
Inspired by much
Hearts rush
And still the loudest feelings remain
An old painting in its frame
Our art as body paint
heaven pouring in
You and I remain
Born not made
(To make)
Love our loudest moment :
Canvas to frame/
A window and the rain...
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
Love is the exquisite pain
The poetry of sultry rain
in unison with our breathing
Fogging the windows
Before the hollow siroccos moan
cold grey lonely
Hallways dim
Velvet Sorrows
Blackened
Walls of the new moon
void of our lungs'
illustrations
Even now in memory's whisps
How exquisite the frame
Picturesque recollection
Polaroid for the finality of farewell
Just us / ghosts now
Without / but dust / once was
None-such eyes / dilates
Can emptiness be
Felt
En flagrante glaciers
Enflamed diminishment?
Seems the loud moments remain
Drowned the reasons of its thundering
All intentions deigned since
Defeated slump with
No dire aches
Mumbling
a corpse heavy mind
Lacking a fleet of feeling to combat self hateful
Blight
Gone in the gloom
Which is palpable like the taste of smoke
That carries warning signals to the sun
with the ****** of native drums
Going
Gone
will o' whispering past
Yet shadows are forgetful in dreams
As we are sleeping to wake
In the beams
Memory echoing from touch
Our bodies quake...
Inspired by much
Hearts rush
And still the loudest feelings remain
An old painting in its frame
Our art as body paint
heaven pouring in
You and I remain
Born not made
(To make)
Love our loudest moment :
Canvas to frame/
A window and the rain...
This is a rewrite and edited final draft, you can read the original at writerscafe.org/poeticfluffer but much of it has been removed for literary purpose and it just reads better. Hope you like this one.
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