i will myself
to write, now
for
it must be said,
spoken
outside my mind

the way you make me feel.

like in a cup of lukewarm tea

from hopeful warmth to cold currents

i float around like a lost particle

unsure how to
to
to
to

accept

what is

how all roads of thought
lead to you

how every night
lying under the veil of darkness
in my bed

i replay everything

every word i said to you
every word you said to me

your image is what I see as my eyes close

what i envisage opening my eyes to when i awaken

no bit can sit in my mouth, nothing tethers me to the vacant pole

when i think of you

i go to the brinks of insanity

to pick the perfect tulip

for you

the only flower

that can do justice to my feelings

for you.

after i
and just before k
you start
and with
the first three fragments of
leeway
your identity ends,

and all else is born

---

Comment on this poem... - your honest comments may be the only things that keep me going!
[BACK][TOP][HOME]