I drank in the faces underneath masks hiding their true natures..............
I left you when the world seemed to play a melody of its own To seek the brilliant lights of whom I wanted to be Far below what I knew to be real, before all of my wishes Turned yellow on all of these pages known as me
I drank in the faces underneath masks hiding their true natures Saw cunning presume my waves rushed in naive Expecting that I would never feel my heart breaking in two When all of their darkness flew in, never to leave
Afraid I was not, as I firmly pressed on, soaring above the scent Of ancient tears that fell on the horizon of night Drowning themselves in all the final beauty that remained Before faces changed and turned from the light
I saw broken mirrors holding a silence that quickly turned away Before all its breath followed brokenness in kind They were touched by fingertips seeking merely to listen To endless space, silence creates in your mind
In the distance, sounds tried escaping the smiles of gypsy songs As one and the same, they invaded their peace With glorious riches that had stormed into stars of past Remembering dreams that brought sorrow relief
I came back to you when I possessed the truth on my breath Knowing I had parted from whom I wanted to be Without you, all of those brilliant lights were not brighter They had turned yellow on all these pages of me
like the reference to the "yellow "pages at the beginning and in the last verse...wondering about the tense of the verbs and adverbs in the lines..my ears just detect something different ..perhaps rereading it again will allay my sense of Flow? excellent write.
A broken spirit can easily mend with time. Love once tarnished and turned yellow can and will return again to a blossom of beauty in full bloom. Such a beautiful poem I shall bookmark for future reading.
ohh I love the start - the idea of the wishes turning yellow on the pages - stale and brittle - and then to return to it at the end makes it almost complete - the circle - the yellow pages of you - the yellow dreams - nice!
The more I read your fine poetry, the more it almost feel like epic novels condensed to the sensuous shorthand of memory. You create a palpable atmosphere of soul communion. This particular piece soundly identifies the difference between flash and depth.
Hello, I am Neva, 4i, from Atlanta, Georgia.
My latest book and videos:
My latest book - Mailing Letters to the Moon
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