He's like the ghost in my bedroom, true I can't see him, but I feel the presence enough to not want to change in it.
I feel your breath, tugging on my soul.
I am though:
Soulless, ...maybe it's my heart.
Heartless, ...maybe it's my dreams.
But I sleep dreamless still moreover.
Whispers catch my ear,
although I'm deaf.
And I feel your presence,
although I'm numb.
I'm the ghost to your handling s,
And yet you haunt me.
I Believe in Beautiful Words
About Me
- Color Changed
- "I write like people doodle and sing in the shower. All the time, anything, yet always seemingly less than adequate." -Me. Blogs are here for me to put random thoughts And for random people to read? That seems idiotic and futile. What do I gain from my out-put? Surely you gain nothing from this in-put If I keep rambling on and on, will you keep reading? That seems foolish. Why are you wasting time? And why am I? . (Not all poetry may be listed in the right order or writing, follow the dates at the beginning of each writing. Inconvenience I know- Oh well-)
1 comment:
ahh what a poem! an ethereal pain crystallized through the sublime words. Your emotions touch the heart of the readers, and you play on them with your words....
Post a Comment