#byronic
A melancholic gaze
Upon my walks I have, born out of wanderlust,
Having thoughts and feelings 'bout dust
And Byron's ways,
The wind is in my raven hair,
A poet is my heart,
Between hope and despair
I classify my written art.
Many women and wine out of still skulls
I am a stranger to,
But not to skills
Of natures who're romantic as a hue.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
a blizzard of emotions,
twisting and turning,
pulled around a roundabout,
driving into love.
you seek to change gears,
your hands tempting to steer the wheel.
the tornado of your eyes
claiming the byronic charge of your heart.
you can't press the break,
love had cut it years ago
when you had stepped into the vehicle,
spun in a cold blizzard of time.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC