She is there.
The return of the one, the irrefutable girl.
Butterscotch hair flows, water down her back,
eyes perforate the darkness of my days.
Bang! An explosion in the mind. The brain screams ‘again’.
Do not run. Wait. Take it in, a trapped moment in time.
Thoughts collide then disperse.
Colours writhe rapidly, a kaleidoscope
as she moves closer. I can see her face.
Sweet taste, smile so intoxicating,
nothing can be said to change this smitten fool.
Too precious to touch, she is the glass, me the reflection.
Not mine, not yet, not a chance?
This is it, that moment when.
**** that thought, curse you to hell and beyond.
Doubt, the enemy, the old antagonist, can’t you drown
in the ocean of loathed emotions?
A step closer, God help me now,
every breath, heartbeat, blink, heartbeat.
Her splendour is too much, this drug too powerful.
I don’t like this anymore mother,
can I go back inside now?
Too late, her hand is in mine.
Now I am lost, she will not save me from this tsunami
but **** me in, deeper so I cannot see, hear, think or believe.
It cannot be right, it so cannot be true,
but…but…it is.
It is.
It is.
“Are you coming then or what?”
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
She is there.
The return of the one, the irrefutable girl.
Butterscotch hair flows, water down her back,
eyes perforate the darkness of my days.
Bang! An explosion in the mind. The brain screams ‘again’.
Do not run. Wait. Take it in, a trapped moment in time.
Thoughts collide then disperse.
Colours writhe rapidly, a kaleidoscope
as she moves closer. I can see her face.
Sweet taste, smile so intoxicating,
nothing can be said to change this smitten fool.
Too precious to touch, she is the glass, me the reflection.
Not mine, not yet, not a chance?
This is it, that moment when.
**** that thought, curse you to hell and beyond.
Doubt, the enemy, the old antagonist, can’t you drown
in the ocean of loathed emotions?
A step closer, God help me now,
every breath, heartbeat, blink, heartbeat.
Her splendour is too much, this drug too powerful.
I don’t like this anymore mother,
can I go back inside now?
Too late, her hand is in mine.
Now I am lost, she will not save me from this tsunami
but **** me in, deeper so I cannot see, hear, think or believe.
It cannot be right, it so cannot be true,
but…but…it is.
It is.
It is.
“Are you coming then or what?”
Written: September 2011 and January 2012.
Explanation: This poem is about a friend of mine and was the first poem I wrote in preparation for university. It is a poem that I go back to many times to make adjustments.
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