My Ghost to Yours
By Neurosine
A beautiful poem, her skin speaks to me, I could sing my life long, the pleasure and pain, if only my voice were the wind in the trees, the night were ever-long, and people were less mean. Sad and silent, smiles on the water, sullen and abject to conventional thought, life flows from her eloquent streams, in the smile, past what you can think of, in the style of the clothes, her touch against me. Extravagant splendor in her eyes, no empty universe, that lie can silently die. Her eyes tell me more, to love and to chore, pass the time quietly away, then face the lesson of pain. I can understand, every reason why, your breath keeps me calm, your face keeps me sane. Written December 15th, 2001 © on Dec 15 2001 10:17 AM PST, Neurosine 0 • 10
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"A beautiful poem, her skin speaks to me,..."