PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Something is contained deep inside her gaze,

 

Sometimes it speaks to me and whispers subtle hints of her life and I find myself moved in a profound way. 

 

Her mouth remains silent but I can always discern her mood. 

 

When she's passionate, they blaze and the intensity renders me all but helpless- the spell she casts without a single utterance is sheer terror, but god, I'm falling in love with the way she frays my nerves and lays waste to my heart. 

 

When the dark, thick cloak of tar black depression swallows her up- sometimes for months on end- her eyes become cold and distant. 

 

 

I can never see her clearly, as if a murky veil stands between myself and the pools of liquid soul I so long to dive deeply and drown in. 

 

What once was filled with clarity and bubbling effervescence becomes tepid standing water; when these times are upon her I find myself wondering if she'll ever come back to me as she was before.

 

Yet every damn time her resilience catches me by surprise, and soon I'm stranded in the middle of her island once again. 

 

I don't even call for help. I tear apart the raft that could bring me to shore and burn it just so I could write her name in smoke in the sky and scatter her beauty as a gift to the clouds. 

 

She's relentless, yet pursues in sheer silence. The pads on her feet mute her steps, but I swear I catch the low rumble of a growl as she watches my every move when I'm with her. 

 

I don't fear who she is, I fear the way she can make me feel utterly helpless under her curious gaze.

 

She has the power and crushing strength of a lioness, yet the nimble grace and innocence of a lamb bathed in the brightest white. 

 

I tremble with the lightest touch from her slender fingers. She could press bitter poison to my lips and I would willingly let it cascade in deathly rivers down my throat, should she only but ask it of me. 

 

Ever unsure if she's playing with her food before the kill, or if I'm leading a thing of docile and utter purity to the bloodstained butchers block, I hover between terror for the health of my heart, and trepidation that I'm slowly destroying something truly irreplaceable.

 

I cannot be sure, but this I know; she will taunt me in my dreams with her laugh twinkling like silver bells, resounding through my head- she stays my sanity better than any shrink or pill ever could, yet gives me over to another brand of mind shattering craziness. 

 

I've fallen in love with a siren, and I will follow her voice to the very edge of this sheer cliff, gladly throwing myself to the unknown below to the beckon of her haunting call.