the unfeeling way
you looked at me
from ditches beside
colorless streets
still haunts
my pitiful
shortage
of dreams.
[those cold eyes;
that angry mouth.]
I spent untold
insomniac nights
musing wrath
borne from
nowhere;
aching
to know
the depths
of your
sightless
soul.
[never blind; yet
always unwilling
to see.]
and all along,
what you were
so madly
searching for
(knee high in
the grime of filthy
sin-trenches)
was right
in front of you--
hovering beneath
pale streetlights;
begging to be
known;
hoping to be
felt;
whispering secrets
into the dirty air
and crusty mud;
patiently waiting for the day
your eyes would be uncovered;
Author notes
a pesky work in progress.
critical responses appreciated
Comments
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those cold eyes;
that angry mouth
ohh gosh. those two lines grabbed my throat and didnt want to let go.
the imagery and metaphores in this is amazing.
ILY!!!
xxxx
♥
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