carve out the
gutters, They whisper.
bury the wet leaves and
silk-covered
moths.
i clean like a
scapegoat, i
pound pavement, carve your
initials in
trees.
the shape of the
moon is so
beautiful, They say,
a porcelain
plate in the stars.
but to me it is a
zero, a
hole in my
pupil, it burns alone as a
yellow nothing in the
bleak sky.
your mouth is
so much more Beauty, a
mosaic of
Wisdom carved out of your
charcoal smile.
more than the moon, it
moves with
conviction, shapes itself into
poetry in
collaboration with your
eyes.
intensity alludes you and the
shape of your jawline is
pure devastation when you
speak.
you are glorious, a
river that drives
me to disaster.
your face alone is
ivory-bone
truth.
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Comments
Hold tight, pretty poetic gentle.
You've got the world at your fingertips, still.
--
Welcome to The ReVoLution.
The here starts now.
Better days have come.
Thank you for your kind words, always.
--
** Serena **
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
-- e.e.cummings
And to you, keep touch.
x
--
Welcome to The ReVoLution.
The here starts now.
enjoyed the read.
--
Intimachine
Band I play guitar in. Post-hardcore punk rock with some freakin' heart.
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