I write my woman on the wall.
Drawn in words and letters.
Clothed only in the tenderest of ink,
loosely splayed across her shoulders
and down her wispy back.
Flowing,
Catching a gust of wind as
she steps off the wallpaper.
We greet as only two lost lovers can...
A tight embrace...
of lips.
of hips.
I can feel her, hold her,
know she's mine
fondle her softly...
(she may tear if I am not gentle).
My quill dips and flutters,
and now her hair develops -
envelopes my hand.
As red as dawn,
(for the color of the sun itself
would be painful to stare at
for such long periods of time.)
She is not painful.
For she is nothing but a visage.
Yet my black jar is full,
so my descriptions may
linger...
Her skin now resembles my own
(Not unlike a rose petal)
it has texture and taste...
so sweet,
so full,
as warm as candlelight
that makes her glow in the dark.
So warm she burns me.
Her hair becomes black.
Her skin now parchment
and flaking against my skin.
My stained fingernails straining
to grasp one last hold
of her heaving bosom,
but...
her smooth features fade.
Once again,
resembling simple scrawling,
of the words that so delicately describe her.
The shadows consume her,
and yet
my thoughts linger,
so real
To me...
As real as the candle
that makes her glow in the night.
And burn.
Even the flames
cannot dry my cheeks
as my only everything
slowly cracks and floats
away on a gale of words,
a wisp of a wish,
and a heart that can bear no more.
Wow this is a stinning piece. Your lines are amazing and engaging, I really enjoyed this piece. Very well done.
"I write my woman on the wall.
Drawn in words and letters.
Clothed only in the tenderest of ink,
loosely splayed across her shoulders
and down her wispy back.
Flowing,
Catching a gust of wind as
she steps off the wallpaper.
We greet as only two lost lovers can...
A tight embrace...
of lips.
of hips.
I can feel her, hold her,
know she's mine
fondle her softly...
(she may tear if I am not gentle).
My quill dips and flutters,
and now her hair develops -
envelopes my hand.
As red as dawn,
(for the color of the sun itself
would be painful to stare at
for such long periods of time.)
She is not painful.
For she is nothing but a visage.
Yet my black jar is full,
so my descriptions may
linger...
Her skin now resembles my own
(Not unlike a rose petal)
it has texture and taste...
so sweet,
so full,
as warm as candle
that makes her glow in the dark.
So warm she burns me.
Her hair becomes black.
Her skin now parchment
and flaking against my skin.
My stained fingernails straining
to grasp one last hold
of her heaving bosom,
but...
her smooth features fade.
Once again,
resembling simple scrawling,
of the words that so delicately describe her.
The shadows consume her,
and yet
my thoughts linger,
so real
To me...
As real as the candle
that makes her glow in the night.
And burn.
Even the flames
cannot dry my cheeks
as my only everything
slowly cracks and floats
away on a gale of words,
a wisp of a wish,
and a heart that can bear no more."
Superb poem. Unique and creative. The imagery was unbelievably good.
All in all a fantastic read. Thank you for entering this into my Valentine's
contest.
Wonderful, wonderful write. I felt like you described her beautifully...I feel this way exactly. (I hope it flatters you when I say this.) Most times, when I write, I feel like I am grasping at something almost unattainable. You have described this feeling I have perfectly. Thank you for putting it into words.
Beautiful
slowly cracks and floats
away on a gale of words,
a wisp of a wish,
and a heart that can bear no more.
Yes...a heart that can indeed bear no more. The words above are the perfect ending to this...the longing the wistful perfectly impossible romance...Very well done!
"A tight embrace...
of lips.
of hips.
I can feel her, hold her,
know she's mine "
mezmerizing lines here
I enjoyed the flow of this piece very much
nice work
thank you for entering my contest
It's lonely in my mind...may I step into yours for a second?
I write comedy, scripts, and poetry. I dream of being a successful stand up comedian, and will eventually have something of that nature po.. more..