Smoke

I'm not entirely sure that this one will make any sense... I could explain it, but it ruins the metaphor, the pragmatics...

lonely trails sought only after themselves,

defending from warmth; cold-obsessive-love.

numb dainty, faint -

ever going wretched whims, tiresome knots

over and repetitive, unnoticed.

sick games in our mind

come back to me, over again.

when I love you, don't leave me now,

laughter, this heated room, making me

whole inside you make me smile. Why tell me

i'm alone with you, we've never been so much.. 

not wanted, long waited for came

water, pouring out 

if a desert were to have only one chance.

Without knowing, needy-natural

'till more came, those sky blue-whips,

misted, warm fresh dew. 

Nor could I lie, needed much -

loved wholesome for so long, 

night-wishing them back, my home,

my new serenity, my hope. 

My whisp of reddened gold.

waiting to turn away again,

how long, a year, will for June. 

Reviews

[Ashley H]

Definitely an enthralling use of pragmatics and imagery. Not a lot of poets actually think like this, I really admire it.
Also,
It has a way of making perfect sense, the reader is able to make their own interpretation.

Very nicely done. Thank you.

[Nobody.]

Wow. This reads like a full-blown anxiety attack...the images and bits of conversations and internal thoughts are all mashed and tangled...much as they are in life. I enjoyed this because it has such a cerebral quality...it is strange and powerful. Sad and crushing. It is good poetry.

cheers!
RG