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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 ] | |