PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

love,

in the obscure sense of the word

warped to fit these obsessions

mangled in a car wreck of

the bloody mess of my infatuations,

those dearly departed and

newly acquired, standards of beauty

the entire meaning of my convictions,

all i can think of, and all that matters to me.

to suffer, is to peer inward

interpreting the new self that emerges

lacking, yet whole,

cynical to the world, smiling from where

dreamers gather, to watch it unfold

simple lines go deepest, to the root of the soul.

i picture myself vast and vibrant,

dark and silent, shyly peeking from my closet,

wanting your company, burning from within

shining brightly like a star

tryin to catch your attention,

you have such pretty eyes,

i wonder

what you see, in the mirror of mine?

no one's ever held them quite so long

without ever turning away, but is that a sign?

i carry on like always, in a gamble

confusing more of myself,

everytime i attempt in new beliefs

to say the things i mean.