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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: She Is Cryogenic Miserydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Colten
    ASL Info:    19/Man?lol/U of I
    Elite Ratio:    3.05 - 62/99/43
    Words: 232
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 866
    Average Vote:    4.0000
    Bytes: 1554



    Description:
       People become so obsessed with cliché love, all fuunny feelings, looking deep into another persons eyes, or sex. Hell with that, Love is not love. love is a feeling, Love is more. Respect and admiration, and a willingness to give oneself to another person even if it hurts, to give up for someone else: sacrifice. This is Love. And I ask one question, could you, in an instant care deeply for someone you don't know, can you Love a stranger?


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsShe Is Cryogenic Miserydots
    -------------------------------------------


    If bluest velvet could be a liquid
    Her eyes would flow loveliness
    So pure and simple, literally cliché
    Because the truth is simple.
    Her eyes speak beauty itself
    And my eyes fall victim
    To guilty pleasures.
    Bluest eyes linger in sockets
    Contained by a smooth face
    Light, creamy, and pale
    Like a ghost in Winter she stares
    Seemingly pure but unchaste indeed.
    Beauty and pornography
    How such subtle opposites should mesh
    In absurdity I sit still and one tear falls.
    Hair like blond-brunette silk
    Straight, flowing, and complete
    On a innocent looking face
    Like a child so sweet.
    In Winter snow falls
    To the rhythm of her looks
    A coolness not harsh
    She stares like a porcelain doll
    And I wonder if she cares
    About her body in this Winter air.
    This coldness cannot freeze the heart
    Which beats in pity and sympathy
    My chest, my heart, my compassion
    For this stranger I know not yet Care.
    She smiles out a window frosted lovely
    And I stare back through glass
    Out a window of Shame,
    But do I feel for Her beyond mere pleasure
    There must be a reason to cry.
    Staring alone about this face I ponder
    While she leases herself to the Chill
    And ice creepeth closer

    I can't go through with this guilty pleasure.


    Her image vanishes
    She’ll be one less colder tonight.




    Submitted on 2008-10-06 20:53:10     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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