i like
the way your touch
smells like the unfinished lullaby
-just a heartbeat away
yet so out of reach-
the way
your outlying eyes silently promise
to hold a piece of the moon
for me
when i'm tired of kissing the dead sky
and the way our shadows die into each other
somewhere in my subconscious
amidst strange melodies of
a lost tomorrow
my skin is reeking
as the touch is lost
like a guitar string snapping
close to the heart
it almost hurts
9 comments:
Living in a dream sung out
You wait for that touch
In your subconscious reveries
That music rises, sometimes
But ebbs away into oblivion
When you awaken again.
I loved these lines:
"like a guitar string snapping
close to the heart
it almost hurts"
""like a guitar string snapping
close to the heart
it almost hurts"
I am almost in love with these lines above, very subtle metaphor...and the poem is beautifully crafted with hints of very personal emotions...real pleasure reading it.:D
I just can't stop saying that I am a fan!
You write wonderfully!!!!
it almost hurts.
always does, doesn't it?
my skin is reeking
as the touch is lost
Wow.
Oh I hate commenting, but this is splendid, and very much moving to tears if I had ever been in wuv. :)
"your outlying eyes silently promise
to hold a piece of the moon
for me"
kickass lines.
Awesome. Effing awesome.
The crafting of the lines, they justify the title even more. This one brushes against...almost touches...those parts of the insides whose name is merely whispered of.
(And no, I'm not talking about the spleen)
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