When will I ever leave this place. Where all of you do reside, Here next to me 11 years remove today. A love I have given without mercy. . .
By Test5 years ago in Poets
And what of my longing has thou'st, For knowing your smug dimples do make me sweat under my shirt. But wait hold, where is my brain,
Never tell me I can, Nor the things of which I may, But of all things of your lips, Do leave a mark nowhere near a physical burnt red rose kisses.
This is for the one, may be who got away from me. . . may be the one I forcefully wanted to be a part of. . . . the one who knew I needed you.
When you were, I wasn't. When I needed, no wants of your eyes entered of my touch. Then I held you of all your loving memory,
Once upon a day you looked my way. My head spun as I saw yours, I knew what my thought once was. Accepting what is now evident.
After a push of a hand, . . . that bore not of my making. . . . kept ticking and ringing. . . . thus measured seconds into ages which cannot stop.
I knew when my love that wasn't not mine to ever to take; Albeit I did give all my ambitions to none, A line from you telling me.
One stormy night, The Dark took a candle from Hephastus, Gave it to Night. Night loved it madly, gave it life but could not give it life.
A feeling of losing, a whine of all years intertwined. Since a beat of the plank of my left eye, did nothing only to stare.
Oh mighty Circe, You don't need no magic to beguile me. Your hair alone has no match, either Penelope nor Helen. Oh Mighty Circe,
Into the grains of the gravel my foot reigned supreme. A feet to an inch I travel here on the dead of night, traversing with no light,
By Test6 years ago in Poets