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If I were to sigh in relief
It would sound out your name
Like the wind that knocks on my window
And speaks of gentle nights
And a safe drive home.
The pavement whispers promises
To pardon me retribution and to
Keep my travels swift.
My brain tells me
No, no, no
But my heart keeps me awake
Longing for the touch of a man
At an unknown distance.
A man with locked eyes,
Keys broken and lost,
And a heart in a language
I never even knew existed.
His soul is one of fire and passion
Though no matter how close I get
I am unknown to it’s warmth.
His speech tells me one story
Yet his body tells me another,
But I do not know which to believe.
I don’t know who lies;
Who tells me what I want to hear.
I know that when the morning is
New born, eyes squinting
And crying out for the warmth
Of the moon’s womb,
He looks at me as though I am all that matters,
As though he does not look through me
But into me, into the very soul I guard
With my pride and my honor.
He reads me unlike the untouched books on his shelf,
But with ease as though he were watching me
On a screen in his smoke soaked living room.
He dismisses me and turns his back
Before I can even tell myself that I
Have had enough of his taste on my lips,
Before I can open my eyes to see the sun
Peeking at us, shaking her head in a way
That can only suggest that she is chastising me
For following in my own footsteps.
I have no words to give her other than these,
Other than the assurance that, no,
He is not like those that walk down
The unpaved roads of my past.
He is unlike anyone the sun has caught me with,
Hiding under the moon.
Comments (2 Comments)
- Oktobyr - 12/21/2011
- It's my favourite thing to do. It might be my forte.
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- XXxHuHxXX - 11/25/2011
- O.O Wow~~ Is writing poems your forte? O.O
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