Let me: Sail into your dreams Cuddle your fantasies Hear your silence Utter your thoughts Read your unspoken words Touch your imagination Embrace your desires. Sing to your heart Kiss your soul Taste your sweetness Touch your kindness Feel your happiness and Dance inside your chest
Let me be: Your gentle breeze, The spring of your life The inspiration of your love and The whisperers of your being
Walk through the dark woods, Those eerie eyes keep prying, The night sky and the moon as witnessed, For the weakened man make his last hurl, This is war, As the soil become damp with red, The sky gets dimmer, Let the stories of broken man written here, Land of unspoken hope, Where dream and desire meet the end of the road, The unforgettable sight for an innocent soul, All those beautiful words, Remain untold, Become a tale for the wind,
He looked me in the eye And demanded to know Why the car wasn't running He needed to go And I stared back Without expression on my face Thinking he's trapped And running for the cage He saw it then The truth in my gaze His panic grew and then rage Then everything vanished But his silent plea And I stared back And I stared back
The young girl had so many letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs that she pondered but every time she opened her mouth the scratchy invisible barrier, that was dug and buried deep inside of her halted her
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, dreams and dreams will be remembered:)
a nightmare or a dream??? the day you wrote a poem to me titles stumbled on the versus our desires declared gone in the drop of a lit matched flare guess that love will remember us stared promises tangled even the unspoken trust i think of the time of all lasts hourglass sand stolen so fast nonsense traffic faints in the path of the cuts this hurt paints bruises in surrender to the knife like when two plus two makes five Venus on the window pane whispering to others about the ****** stain till this day
Concepts can be expressed in many ways; and are mostly explored using words, yet words convey the smallest fraction of our true thoughts and feelings. Perhaps the limitation of language is why I love art and music so ? they are the perfect compliment to a *** of tea.