ConversionA Poem by Millionth MuseIt was almost February-- livid skyline sinking into the city, moist air hanging like a mantle, we locked ourselves out of the world, in your rented room behind the theater where drunks panhandled for pennies and movies played all night long. You wore a t-shirt and jeans, holding that old acoustic guitar, infusing the room with your voice-- you were a saint on a pilgrimage, converting me a little more each day. When I closed my eyes I could see Utopia, forever in the bosom of two great mountains, a verdant valley split open by a vein of turquoise, and as your notes suspended me beneath a halcyon sky, I felt yearning beyond rapture or salacity, more than mere desire, I internalized the beating of your youthful heart, and in that moment, behind my insubstantial exterior I was Anath ready to bleed for you gladly, in protection or simply at your petition. © 2010 Millionth MuseReviews
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Added on March 6, 2010Last Updated on March 6, 2010 AuthorMillionth MuseBy the Beach, CAAboutA little bit of mystery never hurt anyone... I'm a writer, always have been--from my high school scribblings to the notebook I still carry with me everywhere. I've been published a number of times.. more..Writing
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