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Colours resurrected make me feel a spectre,
Another form; almost bodiless. Memories explode
In walking darkness. I am the sad collector
Of imagined embraces. Only starry eyes bode
The amorous tensions that sleep between us.
How do we function then? For when we meet,
Cacoethes flames; becomes near caressed.
How long can we suffer here? Dejected streets
Strum the gaily chords of dead romance.
I speak here, only, with this stolen picture
Of her posing in some open space, her silent advance
Crushes me. But here I cant ignore the stricture
That all the daily hours insist upon me
And all the dreamy love that always could be
| I love this poem. It completely represented the whole sensitivity of the narrator.|
If only I was as genius as some writers on here.
|| Posted on 2011-01-11 00:00:00 | by MyPeriodical | [ Reply to This ] |