Hmm I'm sure u being angelic with the movement of ur fingers dipped in
the well of nothingness to filter them to paper
When sudden nothingness tames my fingers, as I make love to these key
pads I forget that intoxication got me telling tales I thought I had
burried...
Buried in shallow graves where passerby's could for a moment glimpse
at an age never lived a time never recorded a place where there and
here are joined in the apex of yesterday, so shed a tear they will 4
us...
Like a corpse' that once lived, reconnection took its tall in heaven
if not in hell cos earth was a just a play ground of uncertain
emotions that got blew by futures winds...
winds timid, crimson to those we left behind while in our sparkle...
I noticed a tear drop on the left side of your chick
Portraying a silhouette of raw emotions strung by the touch of time
My heart could not bare the brand of the pain she has felt, feeling, endured
My touch was cold to her breast
My word drowned her soul
All I can
All I could was just love her
The scare I could not mend
Love endures pain, love endures hurt, love conquers all, if its felt
deep then its true, regardless of the ebony dress it shadows itself in
when night is upon us. Day feels like a horror movie when words
recited suddenly fade like those credits @ an end of a movie...
We few we lonely few, who sit till the tape runs dry, not to encore
not to support, just to hold on to the scrapes of memories that we
build during the play coz the memory hurts more then the end. We hold
on to it the hurt just to feel close...
The hurt tends to feel close because fear takes its toll when the
thought of relinquishing seems pretty scarier than moving on to what
makes us happy. Opening a new chapter gives birth to to misery of the
unknown yet tales are to unfold in masquarades of what we wish not to
uravel...
We wish not to unravel... Unravel a forbidden tale of ravens and
eagles dining in the cauldron of tears wept in joy, that fear to say:
I made my heart an open book for you to novel upon, while I make love
to the words ur lips dare not utter but your eyes invite me to bed.
With my eyes wide shut, the world becomes more clearer, a little more
refined like a sip of spanish wine. With every sip a blue rose petal
forms and deforms due to the dew formed from falling from grace. Tis
magnificent behind the eyes of a poet
Conversation between the sheets
