September
|
|
Description:
well....i didnt add the ending....y'know....when the lovers part. just not something to be remembered. life is too short to remember the sad times.
September
Looking out from behind graffiti and painted faces, I smile. Perched on a stone, under a tree, is all I’ve ever wanted. Set out for me to take If I can come to grips with reality. My reality. Coy feet lead me down the path that I was made to conquer. He stands before me and all I can do is fall even harder. I can only thank him with quivering sentiments. I’m sorry The sun sits on the fallen fence and for once… We are both on the same map, Holding the same compass. Rain and winds stronger then most pass over. Freezing his limbs and sensible thoughts. We only had a fraction of time To make as many memories as possible. Behind their blanket of scared expressions We try our hardest not to make the love we knew we could. There’s a perfect soul inside this man of flesh and bones. Such a gracious beauty. I can only thank him with the friction to keep warm. I’m sorry. A crowded place and my lovers’ hand neglects mine. Bumping down a road to a place where he can look at me. The rubber meets concrete and I look to him… Only to see his back. Waiting for my only joy, I continue down the road alone. In the darkness he finds me. Here I am. Lost inside all he is once again. The only place I can be happy. Sticky floors and bright lights Frame his forgiving face. A feast for a thousand vain Queens Was set in my sweaty palms. My nervous fingers grip the gift I was blessed with. I can only thank him with white knuckles. I’m sorry. |
Submitted on 2006-04-20 16:38:09 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
Edit post
Comments
| White Knuckles can speak oceans of grattitude, they can open up the upside down, mishappen doors that lead to forgotten and angry cellars of unexplainable imagination, rotting on images of what if's and what could of beens flickering on the dead buzzing cable feed from the tv, they can feed on the electricity that feeds those sleeping nerves by the overturned couch, the rocking chair with nothing but protected mirrors surrounding it, to keep the trusted close and right behind. Those moments are just fraction of perfect time, never used for all it could of been worth, but still relived over and over again, and the sorry looks more reconizable as a thank you, and the thank you is recieved with more reflecting appologies and different sounding thank you's endlessly till all of these memories begin to seem fresh again. | Posted on 2006-05-20 00:00:00 | by Reckoner | [ Reply to This ] | This was beautiful..it made me cry, I've been there and you captured everything. favourite line was 'a feast for a thousand vain queens' I loved the way it sounded when I read this poem out loud. I've added it to my favourites too. ~Sunset | | Posted on 2006-06-27 00:00:00 | by sunset | [ Reply to This ] | you can do so much more, you can, and you will eventually realize it..yep yep..everything is trully balanced with with everything else, it just takes a certainty and a belonging, you have them all, you found the relm to concentrate on..yep..I do believe, incredible f u c k i n g poem my friend, this is beyond anything you have expressed in writing to date..simply amazing...don't be sorry just continue to amaze the amazing..lol...I am so entranced by this writing..god it's amazing..yep yep | | Posted on 2006-04-20 00:00:00 | by Reckoner | [ Reply to This ] | lovers never really part though, they are always together, bonds are strange, but i liked this, A LOT, it was captivating, and well thought out, good work | ~*~amber~*~ | Posted on 2006-04-21 00:00:00 | by rocknpoetrychik | [ Reply to This ] | |
99832
Edit/Delete posts
Create Writing
Create Journal