Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Here, where your searing body pressed close to mine Puts Vulcan's furnaces' heat to frigid shame, Where crashing sun-showers rinse away the brine Of held hands, shared secrets and our glancing games, Where fleeing through rainy May and summer wine Brings together close encounters, whispered names; Here, more as two than just ourselves, **** the cares And **** remembering what awaits out there... There, far away from home, hemorrhaging heat, Left to my own hollowed-out devices Where the concrete jungle strangles every street, Leaving lives wilted and dry, no surprises Where novelty passes for a catchy beat: Here, alone, all identity is crisis. The wasteland surrenders in time, have no fear; With my eyes shut, I can see the path back here...
0
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
translocation (ottava rima)
Here, where your searing body pressed close to mine Puts Vulcan's furnaces' heat to frigid shame, Where crashing sun-showers rinse away the brine Of held hands, shared secrets and our glancing games, Where fleeing through rainy May and summer wine Brings together close encounters, whispered names; Here, more as two than just ourselves, **** the cares And **** remembering what awaits out there... There, far away from home, hemorrhaging heat, Left to my own hollowed-out devices Where the concrete jungle strangles every street, Leaving lives wilted and dry, no surprises Where novelty passes for a catchy beat: Here, alone, all identity is crisis. The wasteland surrenders in time, have no fear; With my eyes shut, I can see the path back here...
Sometimes it's hard to remember why I get out of bed when she's still there.
chirurgeon
Written by
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem