a hopeless romantic in the 21st centuryA Poem by eglantinethe air is full of bones and smells of boiled hair.
What I was, what I grew up to be, I no longer am.
I put down the pencil and picked up a pen; its' ink as smooth as the inside of the moon.
I know so, for that is where I once slept-walked and when I came back, my hair was cut and burned deep red.
The autumn trees in the woods behind your house mimic my whispers: dry branch hush.
I want to kiss someone there, the one with a still beating heart,
and lullabye the moon with our blue pulses.
The wind will carry our sharp scent to the weeping stars, who mourn for the youth.
and we breathe in the marrow of night,
we breathe out dust from fallen stars. © 2012 eglantineFeatured Review
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Added on September 16, 2012Last Updated on September 16, 2012 AuthoreglantineSomewhere SomeplaceAboutI graduated with my B.A. in English (emphasis creative writing) My ultimate goal is to be the U.S. Poet Laureate and to be a college professor of poetry. I'm a wildflower with a poetic soul. I'm als.. more..Writing
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