PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was the appeal of your sway that I sought you, rampant within my near reaching senses; I found you and then I had to find you. It was a tragic truth to know this flaw.

It was without doubt, but with utter disturbance at the way the lights always seemed to flicker. Clouds in my head changed into shapes of dust by the time I found you again.

And what I knew, I knew no more.

You were not yourself, but yourself on the outside. Your bodily frame magnified my stare when you were not even near me, and just knowing who you were 43 days ago, exalted a surge of coy memory.

These acts were lewd, and so my last words sorted the disarray.

How sweet. How seductive. How silly this is, to just be here, and you are nowhere.

I cannot touch you, and I cannot breathe your face, especially your eyes. It is with this notion that I get by, without having to exist in the moment with you.

Although I would like to share the real sorrow of my madness, I cannot, as you are not in me, and I am just a being with faded blueprints, tucked under heaps of heaviness.

I believed in you, at least for a little while, but certainty crept up on me and dried the ground of platinum drops.

With my lips now deaf to your silent ears, I opened my head to view the ground, only to catch my reflection in a pool of sad ice.