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somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
Dag J Jul 2014
Focus drawn from the wrong conclusions
Leads you away from life's institutions
Emotions and feelings gets lost in fusions
Of desperation and regretful grief retributions
... keep it simple stupid ...
even a pencil has fear to
do the posed body luckily made
a pen is dreadfully afraid
of her of this of the smile’s two
eyes….too, since the world’s but
a piece of eminent fragility.
Well and when—Does susceptibility
imply perspicuity,or?
                          shut
up.
        Seeing
                  seeing her is not
to something or to nothing as much as
being by her seen, which has got
nothing on something as i think

,did you ever hear a jazz
Band?

        or unnoise men don’t make soup who drink.
Jan Anton Gilles Dec 2012
I smuggle
storm
rifle
and grief

yet
like a playful crow
I shelter in the glow of your skin

disarmed
by your warmth
I have laid down my weapons
conquered the storm
worded your sorrow

and fled from the fragility
of your brittle mind.
That's me, pure fragility
Been broken and put back together too many times
Honestly, the lines are getting weaker
And the cracks take so much less
To shatter the shards into pieces
Of broken heart

I'm too fragile to handle any more pain
And too hurt to hold on
When there's nothing to gain
Tolani Aug 2018
We were both love. I was a sunflower and you were a snowflake. Both beautiful and gentle but unable to coexist effectively because flowers can’t blossom in the cold.

Yet when it ended, the truth became misconstrued.
Suddenly I was a rose thorn that pricked you till you bled.
And you were a greedy bee that ****** the life out of me and left me empty.

We created false portrayals of each other to make this all a bit easier to deal with.

But the truth will always stay.

We were both beauty, purity, fragility, love.
We just weren’t meant to give our love to each other.

And now we both bleed, because the hardest part is accepting we were never meant to be.
We were never meant for each other..
How fragile the bones of the dying
Eroding like stone that turns to sand
How fragile the eyes
A weak glimpse into surrounding darkness
How fragile the power
Once mighty as a mountain, now a struggling memory

But of all the ailing pieces of those near death
None compares to the withering soul
Breaking and cracking, no longer whole
As one prepares to ride into eternity
And anticipates the moment a breath will come and pass
Never to be duplicated again
The soul all the while fights the battle for life
And, through consuming fragility, is defeated at last
Bruce Ruston Feb 2015
She holds me with fierceness and fragility
her veneer like old paint on a utility door
so unsure with the internally rendered pain
of a thousand failing days

I will lightly sand those cruel  flakes
with smooth care expectant of improvement
and reset the broken hinges she has been
left to hang on, replacing the bolt and lock
so she has full control of who she lets pass

She holds me with fierceness and fragility
longing for alterations not altercations
different times of high hopes holding
within her wearing frame and in that space
you will find me with one ear open

Soothing the doubts of a hundred
internal put downs, that can no longer be
the wind is a Lady with
bright slender eyes(who

moves)at sunset
and who—touches—the
hills without any reason

(i have spoken with this
indubitable and green person “Are
You the Wind?” “Yes” “why do you touch flowers
as if they were unalive,as

if They were ideas?” “because,sir
things which in my mind blossom will
stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise,appear
capable of fragility and indecision

—do not suppose these
without any reason and otherwise
roses and mountains
different from the i am who wanders

imminently across the renewed world”
to me said the)wind being A lady in a green
dress,who;touches:the fields
(at sunset)
Seline Mui Nov 2015
I try to envelope
My hope
In something translucent
Succulent it may be
But fading in glory
A pond of koi fish
Bright as can be
Drawing me in
Yearning my release
My hunger evolves,
Silky brush of youth
Bittersweet satisfaction
In coating the truth
Light strips me white
As I'm pale for all to see
The scars, the pain
Fragility inside me
I am fragile
as the pulse that beats
Visibly
here at my wrist.
I am strong
as this resolute
Proud
steady fist.

— The End —