Moved to allpoetry.com

Moved to allpoetry.com

A widow I am
For you are not dead
but only gone

Buried beneath the meadows
Our love lost at the peak of dawn
For you are only man
And I shall not cry

For those, you shall not pry
Love will come again
For I shall not be around

cannot bare to watch you
Wear that crown
watch you be proud
of how many times
you've caused this frown

she came
when seeds were not yet sown
the sky had not ****** the river
clouds were far away from rain.

she came
when heart was mere flesh
eyes had not known rainbow
and mind was just a wayward place.

she came
when door was only wooden frame
autumn was blooming shy veiled
romance was yet to wear a name.

she returned
there was darkness gathering

love is she forever searching.

I'll know when the right one comes along!
For she shall make me feel five once again,
A relationship of soulmate's turned kin.....

ocean of passion profound
between me and you
my heart drifts
and my words drown

...slowly

reality and imagination blur
deep down there
silence sounds like a prayer
and seconds seize to occur

You’re soft. Smooth.
And yet you want me to break you.
You want my hands engraving red marks into your skin.
Your sweet, soft skin.

I cannot.
But not because I don’t want to.

Time waits for noone,
    We work in its ways..
    We can't avoid time,
    Its always there,
    Your life is made up of time,
     Time can't be stopped.
     It can't be bought,
     Its an asset we all have..
     And its left up to us to utilise it.

She prances the streets, a ballerina in heat snapping finger's in rhyme! Forget thy time, she telephathicly makes her own.

She lives alone, yet roomies become her attire, maiden of dires, dating site's not accommodating thy interest? Pinterest !

A pipe she keeps next to her bed, juicy lipstick, a prideful head,
Yet still her small green bag does not satisfy.. Queen so blind!

Smoke evacuates the old pried windows that are nailed, for ghosts do haunt her, within and outside..

Thoughts of suicide, as riddles she makes up to stay sane, her mascara pounds to thine rain that leaks into her basement sanctuary!!

Addict's she clings to, monsters she speaks to, as her cats keep good company, I know!!!!

An operetic show, a fatalist as me, yet still hoping for whats not there, unruly she dares!!!

Her street lies beyond the ghettos, 515 dover lane ..
On the east side of town where the bullets meet with trains!!

Factory's of grains that make your daily bread, where thy living and thou dead come in between two world's...

Lonesome young girl, no more chariots can you escape, for thou art blundered and unvaped to the cloud animals thou creates!