PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Every other day she found herself

somewhere lost within her heart or her mind

knowing this fate, she'd trace her fingertips

along the ink upon her skin

every fragile line

a visualization of that which she felt

the bliss in her heart of heaven

the tourment and hope within her mind of a bittersweet hell.

"To love and be loved" 

a feeling to be doused and succumbed

but illogical to the mind that everchanged over time.

Tis not a fable to be told,

just a series of fortunate events

building from an age so young

n'er bitter to give in to the being of old;

'fore there was always hope

a twist of taste, the uproar of faith

perhaps within her solitude she'd be safe

alas within anothers' comfort there'd be no let down

no bitter hate. Just endless words upon her skin

of everthing happening for a reason, again and again

fantasizing of a life where this being of whole

would live with the one so kin.