His eyes sang the symphony of love
With purest passionate words of life
She was lost in his moving music
That drowned her dreadful silence
They were an anthemic rhythm
Together forever in echos of time

You don't question,
the ocean running into the shore
You don't wonder,
the way the sun burns in the sky

I don't question,
you not kissing me when you come back home anymore
I don't wonder,
why your eyes don't burn when I dress pretty

How did the ocean stop going back to the shore
How did I become just another object sitting in the house

We are breathing different air under the same **** roof
We are being different beings even after we vowed to be one

This is not comfort, no
This is a settlement without any negotiation having taken place.

I have a vision,
of my brain melting on lined paper,
as I divulge my inner demon,
and exhale this passionate vapor,
my mind begins to capsize,
as waves crash into the sunrise,
like screaming howls,
as I stare into a deadly wolves eyes,
eyes, golden like this California sunrise.........

All
Content
Written by
PoETEPETE
{2000 ~~ 2015}
~©~ Protected & never neglected.

I spew ink.

My whole life I believed I
Was made of tar
People walking by would leave their shoes behind
I thought that my lovers were stuck there
Caught in the goopy blackness of my stirring soul
I had no beaters, no mixing spoon
And they would gasp for breath on the surface

I pushed them out
I could not stand to hurt them so
Letting them die would be such a low blow
And it surprised me
To watch them leave so quickly
Like they didn't even want to fix me

One boy tried to clean me out with his bare hands once
And the farther he reached, the dirtier we both became
He traced my name with his fingers on my grimy car windows
"Wash me" the message would say
And I would try to shampoo the tar out of my hair

But as I looked at the spattered stains underneath my fingernails
My poetry, black and white
I saw right through my self-told  lies.

I spew ink.

Like an exploded pen in your white shirt pocket.
Look at the beautiful spots bleeding into the cotton.

Please don't leave.
I promise it's just ink.

Frostbite fingertips, chilly they are,
Far more appealing than the faraway stars.
That's why my eyes turn to you during winter night,
Your frostbite fingertips, caressing my cheek are light.

Just as dreams are for dreamers, love is for lovers,
And that passionate feeling around us hovers.
Others doubt, but the stars above know,
When compared to our passion, dim is their glow.

Your fingertips, cold on this snowy night,
Rejuvenate me and emblazon my life with light.
If hypothermia were to claim me now,
I hope others wouldn't long ponder how.

I'll lose myself in you any day of the year,
Even during winter, you resolve my fear.

Music is art
Each note is a pen stroke
Each line put slowly together one by one to create a full masterpiece
Each instrument is a medium
Each genre is the elements and principles

Is this even normal?
This feeling of missing you like the moon misses the sky every morning?
You're like this breathing poem
The poem that breaks you over and over
The poem that drags you in it every time
The poem that you love the most
The poem that keeps making you cry
But it's still your favorite one
You make me cry,
You make me mad
You make me love you
You make me passionate