Waltzing The Highlights Of Human Nature
Her lessons tortured upon her back
She rolls with the punches, like a river flowing effortlessly,
The destructive vibes you’ve got going on is of no concern,
She’s a phoenix rising from the ashes, once more reborn,
Smiling as you describe the things you want of her, the things you yearn.
***
It’s all too little, too late,
Her time with you has come to an end,
She’ll live with her regrets knowing it is as it should be,
Her love’s not something she can pretend.
***
Watch as she waltzes through the clouds of your desire,
Your tears are the rain in which she dances,
Nourishing her wisdom, sustenance to her shattered soul,
Shielded from your outgoing advances.
***
Her lessons have been tortured upon her back,
Dreams turning to nightmares at the finish line,
Your empathy of her heart is still missing,
Allowing me to step up to the base and make her mine.
***
I’ll water her sorrow, not that she shows you her pain,
Armed with her shield of anger, her cross to bear,
She’ll welcome her revenge against her torturer,
No longer allowing your presence to scare.
***
She strolls through the valley of my emotions,
Poisoning the horrid memories into oblivion,
Digesting the beautiful she finds along her way,
Invoking the spirit of Corinthian.
***
The masses blend in awe as she strolls the walkway,
Determination to witness her walk of peace,
She’s her own master and mistress in one,
Both you and I are existential to her belief.
***
She is exponentially more than the one who we desire,
Her walk on this earth, predetermined,
Graciously humbling as she seeds her lessons upon us,
Showering us all with her fluent Italian and German.
***
She is a gorgeous beast in all her glory,
Waltzing the highlights of human nature,
One of a kind, oh definitely,
The rules don’t apply to her, thumbing her nose at legislature.
***
The world will be broken badly when she desists,
Her mortal body a far cry from the past,
She’ll still wander your dreams, or are they nightmares,
Dependant on her honour, where we’ve been surpassed.
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Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (3)
This was perfection! Very beautifully written!
That’s beautiful! I really like it! 😁 and it’s true!
Beautifully written.