#poetry_planet
-
Please,I am upon my knees,To receive,The kiss that answers my pleas.For I am numbBy raw strife,Knowing you’d not be my wife,In the turmoil that shaded our life. What was it like, to lie?To speak of being vulnerable, while IFell into bleak and miserable sighsOne after the other, with muffled cries,Into my hands, pouring from my
-
Was it emotionThat compelled you to betray?The sight of meMust be the eclipse,The two hands that made their wayOver to your crying eyes,And blinded your vision. Who was the seeing manIn this apocalyptic romance?For I was blinded, too,By our coldness, in the tears we both rainedTo our kneesThat we hugged close to heart,As the snow
-
We are divided between currentsThat fall from eyes made of glass,And to shield our faces makes us witnessThe shame we decorate ourselves with,As we bleed.We bleed dewdrops over cheeks made of ivory,And kiss love awayAs the emotion it was,Meant to stay. Agony is now our new bliss,Our cheeks, our faces, the silver tears we kiss,Buried
-
How beautifulOne such as me, can describeEach detail, with astonished eyes. Beauty is but a weakness, a place of clayThat requires the water, for sculpture.It is nothing, without the hands atop it,And so, I go to mold. I craft legs to appear as water-bent pillarsTo hold upPoseidon’s very palace, should he have one,Or a cottage,
-
Who bequeathed the roseAbove your brow?Where each petal runs rampant, to fallTo meet the lips that callMy name, through the frosted walls.What love turned itselfUpon an old and delicate leaf? When beauty wakes up, and nestles besideThe stirring loneliness, of a man in a hollow form,And he lays next to a shadow.Merely a quilt that
Modern Romanticism 