Untitled

Silk laden smoothness exudes the spirit,

Extending through the fingers and exposing my flesh,

Rough exterior but knowing mentality,

Skillfully putting me together.

 

Laughing eyes surround years of worry,

Flame red evoking youth,

A real Pollyanna Wittier,

Embodying all that I wish to rely on.

 

I watch you from what seems afar,

Feeling the moment but let it pass,

Conventions not allowing me to express,

Heart thumping against me still.

 

For I know, I see what you had been,

And wanted to take you for myself,

Crisp pieces pushing me down with pins,

Your energy unable to be tapped.

Untitled

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

Because Angels Are In White…

The poem is on Doctors who were heroes to us in the time of Covid-19

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.