I wrote a wish a piece of paper,
Held it to my heart as I whispered your name.
Sliding it beneath your pillow as you sleep,
I hope to meet you in dreams,
Silent and hungry for your everlasting kiss.
Too afraid to place the softness of my lips on your tired skin,
For fear of it unraveling between my shaking fingertips.
The son of insecurity, that loves everything that is not he,
Wanting more than just a lucid daydream.
Is this an illusion,
Or a promise of what may be?
This is so very lovely.........
I read several of your other poems and this one was so utterly love so since reading the others I can't just say this is so very Shakespearianesque but more like with the knowledge I have of the others this would seem a bit twisted (but in a good way of course) so now I'm thinking of you as Twisted Shakespearian winks. anyway, I just couldn't sneak away without commenting on this one. It's just beautiful. The tone is reverent and near magical to read. Thanks for sharing. sincerely, Melissa Lundeen
Thank you very much for the
Thank you very much for the kind words!
I don't know but I've been
I don't know but I've been there and come to a conclusion that it's just a way to pass the time, so instead I write poetry. :-D
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "