Tonight, we are young. The flickering moon radiates on your porcelain skin. Brings out the alluring radiation in your stoic face, your bright blue eyes. Every time we move, we shift together. The absence of feeling, the rush of senses as I touch your skin Unaware in the deceits of the world. As we gaze into one another, entranced in a dream like heaven. The jet black night, illuminated by the pale moon and dancing stars, hidden in the soaring trees; incasing us in sweet silence that sings so loud. Speaking without words, a poem of sorts, or a dance of the mind.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Joe klemmer and writers in Poets and other communities.
Yours.
Yours Your embrace, picks up my fallen pieces. Your smile, reflects one in mine. Your heart, keeps mine beating. Your hand, I'll hold as long as I can. Your laugh, plays in my head when you're gone. When you say "I love you," I'd go deaf for every other noise. When you kiss me, my senses go numb. When you are you, I can be me.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets
First Starlight of Summer
Your whole being is constituted by yearning. You miss the stars but have never seen a fully-realized night sky sparkle to life before your eyes. You write things, funny but short but profound, emulating the archaic cosmos that turns by its own unknowable calculus emulating love in all its celestial glory turning in that same cryptic way, but fully know neither and hardly know both, and it feels disingenuous, so you write about writers. It feels vaguely masturbatory, but it’s funny but short but profound and it impresses the people around you enough, so you run with it forever until you can’t anymore.
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.