[If everything is cliche'
Then why does this feel so new?]
I stole my way across a crowded room, just to gain one more glance at a heart beat's selfish desire
Though this story has been told a thousand.and.one times over
why does it not grow old & cold in my heart?
(I was never one for the redundant)
Your wilting flowers look as fresh, scattered at my feet, as a one night stand's long, lying, promises.
I prick my fingers, to make sure this surreal sanctum is actually taking place.
My mind has been known to drag me into worlds unknown
Because this decaying infliction just won't let go of me.
My breath is so harsh in my lungs
But your's is ever more the fierce.
With hipbones showing through a white, cotton, wool, dress
I knew see through and barely there was back in style.
Author notes
I saw the picture you gave, and wrote waht I felt fit...
Writing, I dont know what this is?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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oh very good!
good luck in the contest
this poem should def get something! -
well-written
I adore your word choice, plus everything flows very well. Excellent write, and best of luck in the contest.
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The background is a bit ironic...and a little psychotic...and alot iconic. Ok just kidding...but still it's a good poem. A little cliched but still well written.
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Good work. I like the flow of the poem especially.
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You didn't spellcheck. Let me know when you have done that, and I will finish reading this.
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Done, sorry about that...
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