Fragrant decay
Admittedly,
there is a fragrant decay
to your stubborn pride marred only
by the lost ruin you hide,
like a floral bouquet it seeps out
on a wing and a prayer,
and fills my senses and the surrounding air.
Always brightest,
just before the storm, liquefied like thunder
wrapped in this devil may care
attitude that you carry,
an effervescent coldhearted affair,
wrapped in tender hooks,
indeed.
A perilous drop for any
who may care.
I was alone in my bed. A mournful light was taking the floor of the room and I just wanted to sleep for a couple of days. But then the memory of you came into my head, and the sky outside sparkled like a glint in the middle of a storm. I started to think where you would be. “Maybe in a paradise”, I thought.
No, you wouldn’t be there. The paradise wasn’t in an island, it was right next to me. Or at least that’s what I always thought with your presence by my side.
“I wish you where here”, I whispered.
Yes, I had the romantic, childish and foolish dream of you, here,
just to see your eyes,
just to feel your warm hands
holding me.
And it remains…
Voice: Me
Music in the back: The pouring rain of a winter night…
Poet of the reading: Ninewhitetulips
The afternoon sky
Darkened along
With my
Thoughts
The trees refused to stand still
My hair flew
Your jacket was not
Enough but I
Felt compelled to keep going
*
I walked for an
Hour away from the
Familiar never fearing
Getting lost
I knew I’d find
My way back
I knew a fire would be burning
*
