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Welcome !	Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link	22-November 17:58:07 AEST

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Contributed by cherrita on Sunday, 26th February 2006 @ 07:18:47 PM in AEST
Topic: LoveRemembered

I'm thinking of You.
And I am concentrating on the memory of your face,
and when it comes near to building an image, it is as if the twinkle that your dark eyes held when they captured me is irretrievable.
And You are the rose next to my bed. The glass that it is held in has cracked, and the rose has lost the exquisiteness and honesty it once possessed. The ability it had to woo me more than any other rose is vanishing slowly as I lose the great interest I had in it that I imagined would last forever.
But it is still glowing, like my heart still glows for you.
But for how long? For I have not a clue.
Because the aching need for your smooth skin and the touch of your experienced lips to touch my body will drift away like an insignificant speck of dust, and all that will be left are the memories of when it was possible for us to engage in the passion that God meant for lovers to do.
And I am a fool for thinking it was accessible for us to love eachother.
And if I share my love with anyone, it is because they are a reminder of what you meant to me.
My eyes will turn blue, and my body will weep, and I will beg God to speak to me because I am alone.
Alone in this world, with only a weeping willow tree to share my sorrow with.
This hand is hurting from my sadness, and from wanting to be held again.
But if you let me, I'll use it to wipe away the tears that you may cry, so that the salty water can sink into my skin and run freely through my bloodstream, and we will feel anguish together.
Like friends do.

Copyright © cherrita ... [ 2006-02-26 19:18:47]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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