"evasive" poems
There is a forbidden pleasure in the poet's art
it's like having an illicit ****** liaison, is it not?
now it can be told, that's the way one felt
enticing while evasive, was her two way dance.
In the secret society meeting last full moon night
for the first time I came face to face
with the enigmatic girl, rumored to be the mistress
of the poet I admire, for his skills of allusion and veiled speech
she was so young and somnambulistic in appearance
her lips were so thin, the only remarkable thing
still in memory those pale lips remain,
how helpless we are in a world, curtained off
to keep our secrets in rooms of green darkness!
The poet was absent, but he was very much present by that,
as her shame intrudes when she starts conversations.I found him there.
The words whispered from her lips were not heard, however one tried
none listened to it, I bet, a poet's mistress is as curious
as an object of art, stolen from its rightful place, I suppose
When the boat returned to the island to take us back
we were the only passengers left, at last, how strange!
In turgid waters a fallen full moon like a snake swam
I was looking at its wriggle, creating a tragic geometry
that reminded me her thin lips, she sat next to me, motionless
her soft breathing, was rhythmic poetry I kept imagining,
till we parted exchanging a faint smile. her's was florescent.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
I feel your love,
Yet your marksmanship is poor,
For towards me your love aims not.
Your intentions aimed elsewhere.
A past lover.
And I am not he.
Malicious Misery pushed you too far.
Too far this time.
Your life is precious to me,
Yet a treasure you seek not.
It dwindles within these machines,
Like a strand of seaweed.
Being crashed upon by the waves,
Of this poison you endowed yourself with.
Much a tragedy this is.
Yet not that of Shakespeare.
No, this much too real,
To take a form of fictitious imaginings.
This, much more complicated,
Than a Shakespearean masterpiece.
For if so,
Your love would be aimed at I.
But it is not,
And in resent, I mourn this tragedy.
Yet, I must let love,
Travel upon its everso hellbound path.
My eyes lie upon thee,
And my heart within the feeble hand of yours.
Yet your mind lies elsewhere,
And your desires lie with your mind.
Upon he.
The one currently at your arms reach.
The one at your desires demand.
The one you truly love.
I must not resent this,
For love hath struck thee as it struck I.
And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well.
I can see it in his sorrowful stare.
He loves you in a way that I cannot.
A consentful love.
For I am just a scapegoat.
Temporary.
Well now you've quenched your desire.
You've acquired what you sought.
Love of he.
(And I, for whatever its worth.)
His love is a precious gold,
And mine a mere coal.
Black, unwanted.
Only able to provide temporary warmth.
Pardon me for obstructing.
Love hath stolen my precious vision,
And wandered, I,
Into the meadow in which you hunt.
As a poor marksman,
Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me,
And realized I am but a scapegoat,
When the white stag is what you seek.
Once before,
you lined him in your sights.
But evasive is this mystical creature.
And once, he escap'd.
If your life so solidifies,
I shall replinish my vision,
Banish my love,
And obstruct thee no more.
Instead,
I must prosper in silence and patience.
Shun my hearts desires,
And let thee hunt.
I apologize for my inconvenience.
I shall groom each of your horses,
So that you may ride into,
The meadow of love together.
Hence, beware of hunters,
And wandering creatures.
Teach thine unsteady hand,
And this time...
Don't miss.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
As a ginger, I'm inclined to say fox. I've always had an affinity for those cunning, red canines.
But if it's just for a day then perhaps something a bit more adventurous. I suppose I would choose to be a cheetah.
Fastest land animal in the world, agile, and speckled.
Nobody messes with a cheetah. Not because they’re so hulking or intimidating— just more fascinating than terrifying.
We travelled to South Africa once, my family and I. As a tribe we chased wild creatures down with cameras in jeeps in a raucous yet hushed thrill.
The cheetah was one of the few animals that eluded us. Perhaps having never seen one up close is partially what draws me to them.
Mysterious, as well as evasive, with an "I don't give a **** attitude.
They only eat every so often because catching food is such a feat. When they do hunt however, it's one of the most spectacular things in the natural world.
It's why places that sell tv's show footage of cheetahs running in slow motion over and over on a dizzying loop; demonstrating how clear the pixels are in the plasmas. It's mesmerizing.
Their feet move too fast and fly over the dirt, honed in on whatever poor gazelle or kudu they're after. If you're a cheetah that is your body, your thin bones, your rapid heart and beating paws that make you move in such a blur.
To be a cheetah for a day is feeling and knowing the difference between machine and muscle. Humans have found ways to fly, and people regularly move faster than a top speed of 75mph.
But how sublime it would be!
To be solely and purely responsible for that unparalleled speed just for one day.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
Love:
Affection, Admiration, Lust, Adoration...
There are at least 65 different definitions of the word.
Feelings that inspire books of poetry or expressions of love unheard.
How is it measured?
Perhaps with a caliper
to measure its depth and breadth.
Or with a sound meter
To measure the volume and decibel or the whispering of a breath.
Could you measure it in pints or cups or ounces in a measuring cup?
"My cup runneth over"
Can it be measured with a thermometer?
"I'm burning up."
How heavy is true love - can it be weighed on the scales?
Can you measure love with a compass - to what degree does love prevail?
Can a speedometer track the speed by which one falls in love?
Or an odometer measure the distance at which love can still be felt?
Can you use a syringe to limit your doses of love before it's lethal?
Can you attach a heart monitor and check how a lover's heart beats faster
or the health of their love - strong or weak?
Can the rhythm & harmony be counted out on a metronome
Can a polygraph test prove it is true?
Can the magnitude of love be measured using a microscope, binoculars or a telescope - maybe Hubble. How does one know how to bring it into "focus"?
How mysterious that love is so indistinguishable, so immeasurable, so evasive & yet SO BIG!
Yet no one - except for God - knows the true measure of Love & its ability to heal, to hurt.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Diaphanous silk skirts glide gracefully around tiny ankles attached to perfect legs.
And the string quartet plays in the background.
Strong hands encircle a tightly cinched waste
And breath brushes against a neck.
Then the clock strikes midnight or the alarm sounds.
The spell breaks, totalitarian reality invades.
And dreams flutter away, evasive and light,
Like diaphanous silk skirts.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
A visitor—
icicle fingers
tapping on my windows' pain—
white blanket in tow
Hurting enough, I paid him no mind
so he kept tap, tap, tapping
‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared:
a final, gentle tap
shatters my windows
My rainbow world
now smothered, pallid,
forced into boredom and slumber,
sunlight chased away
and I am never the same again…
Soul gets plunged deep in the cold
blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity
there is an eerie stillness,
almost as if no one dared to breathe,
even the barren trees refused to quiver
brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky
futile though, for they are frozen,
grasping at nothingness,
clouds stubborn and stoic,
brooding in silent grayness
…and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes
palpable and brave~
it weaves its way through the branches,
gathering strength wherever it went
it beckons to the sky, which in turn
gives in and celebrates ~
letting dainty confetti fall
white, yet amazingly graceful
each flake falls softly on the ground—
a fashionable brocade
trees softly sway now,
and dance to a winter song
the sky weeps with happiness
for seeing a glimpse of life—
diamond teardrops
they catch a bit of evasive sunlight,
of which I thought I’ve lost
and give birth to miniature rainbows…
all this time, Sunlight was there
I just
never knew
how to
catch
it.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 9:37 AM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Darkness of night catches me,
Traps me in his grasp,
I grapple,
Trying desperately to avoid sleeps' sticky web,
Evasive action,
Breathe against cold night air,
Filtered through the open window,
Window to my sleepy soul,
Trying to stay alert,
Under a burning weight of two tonne eyelids,
Flicker of a mosquito shadow flickering under night's lamp illumination,
Buzzing manically,
So insane,
Heavy eyes drift,
View of shadow incessant flicking,
Vacant thoughts as topics drift,
Last shiver, quiver, jolt........,
Sleep.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
People will often say
That those who have trouble
Letting others in
Are "guarded".
And maybe that's true
In most cases.
They wear an emotional
Suit of armor
And build imaginary walls
Around their hearts.
I also have trouble
Letting people get close.
But I would not,
In any circumstances,
Say that I am "guarded".
To call someone "guarded"
Insists that they are protected,
Safe from harm.
That's where the word loses its
Relevance to me.
I am not protected.
Not in the slightest.
I wear no suit of armor
And have no walls
Around my heart.
I'm as vulnerable as a baby deer
Who's lost it's mother
And broke it's leg.
I am susceptible
To any and all types of injury.
I am not safe from harm
Or impervious to heartbreak.
In fact,
I'm fragile.
My heart is brittle
And will break as easily as glass.
I have trouble letting people in,
But I am by no means "guarded".
I have trouble letting people in
Because I am extremely unguarded.
I am not protected or safe,
But I am evasive.
Which is probably
The smartest thing to be,
For people like me.
I run from danger
And emotional intimacy
Because I know
I'm too frail
To handle being mistreated
Or left alone.
After letting myself fall
Over and over again,
I've learned that love
Is not worth the pain
It inevitably causes.
I am done risking
My delicate soul
To feel close to someone.
At least for now,
I don't want to love
Or be loved by anyone.
For now,
I'm still recovering.
I'm still learning how to live
With myself and without the
Infatuation of someone
Who will most likely end up
Being nothing but a memory.
I won't correct you
If you call me "guarded".
But those who do not wish
To be emotionally close
Are not always so hardened.
Sometimes they're soft
And scared of the world around them.
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
You'd be pretty lucky,
if you caught my eyes
staring back into yours.
I'd like to tell you a good reason,
weave a tale of heartwarming lies,
Alas, there's no story behind my evasive eyes.
I nod when I mean to scream 'yes'
To every whim you have.
I smile when I mean to laugh.
I compliment you with the most beautiful of words,
In my silence, I hope you hear me say.
I was born a misdirecting sign-post,
hoping to lead you the right way.
If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Indefinitely. Instantly.
But in this infinitesimally small moment
that we share,
In an obnoxiously loud world that we stay,
That little space between us is all it takes
For all that is unsaid to lose its way.
If you'd know me, I'd like to believe,
You'd fall in love with me.
Instantly. Indefinitely.
If you'd give me a while,
You could hear, you could see.
You'd know how hopelessly in love I am,
as inarticulate as my thoughts may be.
But with the years it has learned,
This stupid, hopeless heart of mine.
That it simply does not have the luxury of time.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
It makes sense that a mummy was required
For the exodus out of my king rut
By wrapping me in silk and satin
And embalming me with love
But my brief time as pharaoh ended
A tomb at the pyramid I once attended
Thoughts of my sins plagued me
Did I get too froggy?
Or maybe he just met another sarcophaguy
Or maybe I misunderstood him
When he invited me over for desert
I wanted to conquer you
Like Brendan Fraser
Now I just want to talk to you
Like John Edward
I tried unearthing artifacts to channel your spirit
But your grave had been robbed
And after swimming in denial for so long
Wandering through the Sahara feels wrong
Your carefree kingdom is where I belong
But the evasive Ra warned
That the ghosts of snake charmers
Are abrasive and horned
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 1:50 AM UTC
i fell in love with you
once
long ago
with my eyes closed
and the dream-screen drawn
we danced
like music notes across their barred landscape
we danced
the loveliest late-night lullaby
you became my hiding place
lilac and lace linens
stretched over a lumpy matress
my indiana jones
waiting patently and poetically
in a long-lost temple of slumber
you come back to me in waves
softly and subtly
while i'm half awake
you're kissing the broken down shorelines of an insomniacs holiday
i wish i could keep you
like an empty bottle in the window-sill
or a heart arrhythmia
this lonely romantics cardiovascular waltz
let me snag you up from my dream-dust
and stitch you to my sole like a lost boys shadow
let me find you in my reality
tip-toeing over an underlined paragraph
of a beer stained paper-back
i'll find you
someday
after a long-over-due nights sleep
perhaps in the guitar strings
or type-writer keys
or at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey in the ever-humming freezer
be mine
evasive valentine
i'll even let you hide in the curls of my hair
or under my fingernails
i'll keep you
if you'll let me
just don't forget me
come sun-up
when you gallup away
from my sub-conscious escape
take my heart-rate with you
tucked into your breast-pocket
like a floral handkercheif
or a photogaraph taped to the dash
come back
to the grey matter kingdom
tucked behind my eyelashes
i'll meet you in the idiosyncrasies of my synapses
writing love stories that never once happened
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:56 PM UTC
Sometimes I just sit and wonder,
About the meaning of my life.
And about the true purpose of me,
Amidst all of the toil and strife.
And amidst all of the greatness,
The beauty of earth and of space,
And of the vast circle of life,
And what role I have in this place.
And the answers are all very evasive,
So I conjure them all from within,
Relying on simply my learned faith,
And experience of where I have been.
And I read the words of others',
Who have past on well before me,
Who also sought what I now seek,
Yet still left this life, unknowingly.
Could I be the one who uncovers,
The secrets all men hope to find,
Or will I, like the ones before me,
Go out of this world just as blind.
What if there is no true meaning?
And purpose; just a desperate plea?
To add some reason to madness,
What a pointless life that would be.
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 10:16 AM UTC
Golden trees with sun-kissed leaves
Wings of midnight cotton
Floating high in cedar hills
Are dreams inside a coffin
****** rose with sappy petals
Warrior wings with fewer scales
Coasting into deeper woodland
Are the graves of the lost and frail
My pen wrote of loss
And with an evasive tongue, it spoke
My quivering lips succumbed to terror
And so on the truth, I choked
Azure sea reflected me
Singing wading tunes
As I dipped the toe of fear
My fear hid in the dunes
Golden rays throw blinding flames
As the setting sun burst color
Broken shells still pierce my heart
As it yearns to rid this dolor
My pen wrote of drowning
And with an evasive tongue, it spoke
My quivering lips succumbed to terror
And so on the truth, I choked
My pen then wrote the face of cowardice
And with a change of tongue, I spoke
My lips would brave the words of reason
And the birds would fly in happy notes.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:40 AM UTC
I find that certain evasive
nobility missing in her character
She is a well polished diamond
that can never shine;
Abundant confidence, so little material
Wait, wait, wait you'll say
She'll wait wait
Then she'll fall in the end
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
what is love
the line thrown around
my juvenile thoughts
my impressionable mind
the short time I've spent on this planet
my teenage ignorance
surrounded by love
in its many definitions
left to my own devices
never getting an answer
what is love
as evasive as wind
as fleeting as air
teenage confusion
love confusion
what is love
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
I steal glances of you.
You're so evasive; it kills me.
Every so often I think I can close my hands around you,
But you vanish into thin air.
What makes you so difficult to grasp?
Why can't I simply envelope you into my being?
I desire you so.
Please, just be still for a moment.
Stop your spinning; be concrete for me.
I didn't work for you so that you could be ambiguous.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
Their's is the Anger of a different kind
The anger of people who never tried
In their minds they soared to greatness
But reality for them was empty places
To the stranger they seemed evasive
Smiling behind their glamorous faces
I know these people well
I know their heart's and I know their hell
Actor's and Actresses but not of stage
Playing their parts with passion and rage
No curtain falls for them
No applause, no critics pen
Their's souls are trapped in self made cages
Freedom is easy but to make the changes
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
A Parody
Brigitte my love
Our Country suffers of many debts
The people are restless
Whatever shall we do love?
Ah Macron, we must think past the cookies
The solutions are complex, answers evasive
Let me speak with Marie Antoinette, she shall know!
Queen of Navarre, By god we shall be saved!
Marie, Marie Antoinette our people are restless
Our republic is in debt. these are crazy times!
Whatever shall we do?
I am fed up, allons-y
Ah fear not, if they have not bread!
Let them eat Nutella!
Lower the prices
Nutella for the masses!!!
Marie, are you sure? very very sure of such things?
Oui oui, on with it, my father was emperor of Rome
Nutella will calm the masses
Come here Nemo. taste, see even Nemo is tres happy now!
And so France lowered the prices of Nutella
Thus began the nouveau French Revolution
Riots in the streets, brawling in the magasins
The uprising has began, we want our Nutella for free
The masses rose
Nutella for all, Nutella for sans prix
We are all somewhat fou for Nutella you see!
And so the masses fought each other for Nutella's liberty
Nutella one and Nut Ella all!
I swear to your Brigette
We should have given them Macarons!!!
People remain civilized with cafe and cookies! n'est pas?
Emmanuel my love, fret not
The revolution shall be quelled
Qh I have the perfect person for this
He shall restore order to our dear republic
Prey tell Brigette? Who could do such a thing now
Riots everywhere, the masses fight each other daily?
The streets are not safe
There is a shortages of Nutella now, we are doomed cheri
Non non mon amour, I shall call Alizee
She shall sing us out of the terrible mess
She is the mistress of Doug McMillion
This man can save us all!!
Brigitte, who is this man you call Doug?
Why Emmanuel he is the president of Walmart
He has squashed many Black Fridays rebellions
He shall save us all!!!!!!
From these unruly unsavory Nutella shoppers!!!!!
Vive la France!
Vive Alizee
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri
C'est ton droit et ta liberté
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Dust is so evasive;
Clingy like an adverse abrasive
Who's dullness never fails to catch an eye..
Or a cough or to cover any canvas of life...
The depth of the dirt is profound,
ashes collect below your ebbing eyes,
You drown at midday, in quilted air,
Kept in the death mask of dust.
in the muted morning, sun sweeps through the curtains,
a bright blotter of those particles that paste your hair.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
There will be mud on the carpet tonight
and blood in the gravy as well.
The wifebeater is out,
the childbeater is out
eating soil and drinking bullets from a cup.
He strides bback and forth
in front of my study window
chewing little red pieces of my heart.
His eyes flash like a birthday cake
and he makes bread out of rock.
Yesterday he was walking
like a man in the world.
He was upright and conservative
but somehow evasive, somehow contagious.
Yesterday he built me a country
and laid out a shadow where I could sleep
but today a coffin for the madonna and child,
today two women in baby clothes will be hamburg.
With a tongue like a razor he will kiss,
the mother, the child,
and we three will color the stars black
in memory of his mother
who kept him chained to the food tree
or turned him on and off like a water faucet
and made women through all these hazy years
the enemy with a heart of lies.
Tonight all the red dogs lie down in fear
and the wife and daughter knit into each other
until they are killed.
1.7k
when a boy finds a girl pretty
his mass of love gains velocity
and in that moment(um) of trance
he sees a chance for romance!
when a girl finds a boy attractive
though she first plays a little evasive
can’t hide for long her cheeks’ blush
in the growing velocity of her love’s mass!
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
From the dust of my memories I put you together,
I am trying to glean you from the sands of time that have separated us.
There is no poetry in me, nothing hidden or secret that I can say, just that
Though we had long known each other, we now simply
Know
Of
Each
Other
And this, to me, will always be the finest tragedy,
The coup de main of time
I watch you though the layers of lies that are Facebook
Instagram
I see your words dry up and sometimes flow
A stream few others love; the sweet cadence of the
Silent rhythms I have long loved
Your tribute to the bea(s)ts inside your heart
You always reminded me of silver,
The tarnished kind,
Sitting quietly in Colaba market
Waiting to be touched, loved, occasionally dropped,
But always retaining in yourself
The sleek splendor reserved for someone
Proud in the knowledge that
When the moonlight shines on her,
She would know how to shine right back.
Beloved,
You are married now,
And no words dance between us
I have listened to you on nights
With barbequed meats simmering
Moths fluttering
And laughter tinkling
The wind caressing your stray hair as if it knew
That you belonged to it all this while.
I will burn into the back of my otherwise undisturbed skull
The pictures of you in white,
I laugh.
Seeing your delight
In a dress
We never thought you’d slip yourself into
So evasive were you,
But nothing stopped you when your mind was made,
Falling in love with a man who could listen like the ocean
From the dust of my memories, I draw you out
Through the sands of time I see you,
Living in a world where
The stars dance for your joy alone.
Someday, somewhere beyond this life,
We will meet each other in the spaces
Between two others’ lonely fingers.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC