The simplicity of being perfect,
Scars its bearer with wounds.
The pressure of laughing it away,
Stops the midnight ventures.
And she stares at a face, one so sweet;
Riddled with experience, and age.
But as the puzzle unwinds,
Day breaks out upon the lighted surface.
There is a time for worry,
When your thoughts are gone,
Books unread at your table side,
But memories will catch in the air.
And surround you with their:
Simplicity of being perfect.
Author notes
Written June 24th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
-
Thanks for the comment, opinions are what makes the world go round, although not literally..
Thanks again for commenting.
Purplerose
-
i dont see how being perfect would be simple....this was a really good poem
-
i don't know what else to say other than this: beautiful
-
Your poetry is growing, my dear.
Memories do catch in the air. I think some are so intense, so palpaple that they can hang, make it dificult to walk through a room. I didn't have a great day today. I kept on thinking about things. I think that sometimes, when you go a bit slower than you tend to, so much can catch up with you that you feel like you're in a fog.
Simplicity of being perfect... made me think of your sister there. She always likes to tell me that beauty lies in simplicity. "True love of perfection" you know where that is from, right?
There are certain faces I could stare at like that. They just suck in your attention, and you almost stop listening to what the person is saying and just examine the intricicies of their face. Not to sound creepy or anything...
I could go on and on about this one but I have to wake up at four tomorrow morning.
You're SO great, and give C a big hug for me when she gets back from RYLA, okay.
Katy
Adding your comment:
1 old applause
