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Seems like nothing really keeps it's own, behind the words, where felt alone. Eyes astray as voice pursues the not all there with dark betrays. Shallow trust the gallows lust, demeanor feigns, surreal uncut. Promises in blossomed mist, fluttered behind nothingness. feeling I'm not wanted near, is every moment oh so clearer. I superpose I'll leave this thought with the whisper hidden lost. |
the poet's voice pursues..but sometimes the words can't really do justice to the feelings...or the words aren't wanted.. so i will not write them down but simply whisper them to myself...anyway i am only pursuing "the not all there" unrequited love can make us feel either we are shallow..or the object of our intentions is... thoughts, feelings, love seems to die on a gallows of in-between...we die somewhere in the middle not able to reach to the other person... i almost get the feeling here of someone who doesn't even realize that the speaker has feelings for her...she is oblivious...and he is afraid his words will fall on deaf ears...so he is prone to self-whispers...and loathing himself for not being more forward... just thoughts an interesting write... the "it's" should be "its" jacob | Posted on 2011-03-29 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] | |