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    dots Submission Name: A Mona Lisa smile dots

    Author: ladydeathstrike
    ASL Info:    27/F/Chicago
    Elite Ratio:    5.27 - 259/284/94
    Words: 408
    Class/Type: Poetry/Longing
    Total Views: 537
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 2336

       This was something that just couldn't wait to get out. It was something that took me alot to admit, to myself because it shames me to feel. Somehow admitting it to the paper wasnt so hard.

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

    dotsA Mona Lisa smile dots

    I wonder who she is,
    what she is like,
    her faults, her attributes,
    the things that make her unique.

    I want to know why she's smiling,
    what he said in that moment
    that made her laugh.

    I want to know what he felt, in that microscopic second when he had
    her body leaning on him
    as the flash of the camera flickered.

    (I want to know)

    I want the photograph
    to be transparent,

    I want her eyes to tell me more
    than I can currently see.

    He didn't smile,
    but then again he's not
    the smiling type.

    (how intimate they stand)

    I examine every detail of that moment,
    even though that moment
    is long gone.

    I memorize every color,
    pigment of truth.
    signs of happiness,
    radiating through.

    I feel like if I stare at it long enough
    someone will speak.
    Their past selves speaking
    as they would never dare
    and confirm my greatest fear.

    (I want it to be me.)

    I keep the evidence of the past,
    I memorize those moments,
    all those years,
    everything you told me.

    I feel like if I trace over it
    long enough
    I will gain my sanity back.
    This sick obsession keeping me apart.

    I listen to the song,
    dissect everything in my path,
    trying to decode
    some foreign manifesto of a life
    that was once yours,
    a fight you once held dear,
    a hand you caressed.

    I wonder if it was love?
    I wonder what would have happened
    if each person's actions were not their own?

    (This story without an end)

    The possibility as endless,
    I wonder what they talked about,
    if promises were made.

    I wish I was far away....

    I wish I wasn't myself...

    Its enough to bear,
    so I fall asleep...
    and dream of that moment
    when the girl in that picture was me...

    if only..

    Submitted on 2009-07-29 14:31:13     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
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    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      I memorize every color,
    pigment of truth.
    signs of happiness,
    radiating through.

    "Pigment of truth" caught me by surprise, it really did. And it's something I wish I'd written myself...

    This poem is sad and wistful, envious and real because of this. It's something anyone can relate to: that feeling of wanting to belong, of being intimate -- there's a purity to this that not many touch upon, whether they're afraid to or won't admit it.

    | Posted on 2009-12-01 00:00:00 | by trinityfinger | [ Reply to This ]

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