Actually

Because unkept promises sting like the first winter frost.

What could I possibly offer

That hasn't already been promised?

What purpose would my frantic verses serve?

 

Leigons of men have offered the moon

I could promise you serenades of constellations

Each night you glance out your lonley window

 

Who amongst us

Hasn't already vowed their undying love

On a contract of flesh

written with ink of fevered tears

 

Who hasn't swore on their very life

That in your wonderfully abysmal eyes

They have seen the mediterranean sea

At midnight, during high tide

 

Far too many have done so already

So I won't

Out of fear that I shall be

yet another

Who can only offer you words

 

If I could not provide your relfection

Multiplied by a million

on te gargantuan head of a diamond

Would the shadows of my hands

still caress you in my absence?

 

What I can be is a beacon of light

In the interminable well of your dreams

My arms can defrost your sould

When the world for not apparent reason

Decides to be cold

 

My lips can be your harbor

If you have just faced a heartless storm

 

My voice can be a lulaby

for your weary head

When all the lights are off

When out limbs are intertwined

and it's difficult

to tell your body from mine

 

I can be yur guide

Into a land not burdened with time

Where the birds always sing

Where we are both gratefull to be alive

And upon our return;

I will always be there

 

This is all I have to offer love

Simply because

that is all I ask for

In return

Author's Note

No spell check on this PC

Reviews

[Hawksmoor]

"I could promise you serenades of constellations"

Goddamn.

Hawksmoor...From The Bleed.

[Hawksmoor]

Some old Greek misogynist b*****d, while in the throes of a deadly farmhouse love-in, once said, "Words are the domain of the terminally unphysical. Give me action any day over fruitless words!"

You, The Refuge?

S**t, man�I'm no romantic when it comes to affairs of the heart, but your statements, things like

My voice can be a lulaby
for your weary head
When all the lights are off
When out limbs are intertwined
and it's difficult
to tell your body from mine


And

My lips can be your harbor
If you have just faced a heartless storm


�well, s**t, man. These lines are quite breathtaking. I can't imagine any sensible woman not snatching the speaker of this piece up lickety-split.

Such word-less words, defying all description of what Love is.

If I say any more on this, I'll be forced to castrate myself.

But this, my brother, is a good sign.

F*****g excellent writing.

Hawksmoor�From The Bleed.

[distefano 401]

this was beautiful. you started off by saying how words don't mean much anymore because they're so overused. but the figurative language in this poem was great. i loved it.

[Luis Gabriel]

I like this a lot, all that is needed is a clean up...you know spelling, typos, and what not but other than that solid, poignant, and smooth...i liked it alot.