With a tower of kisses
Borne in the autumn lighting
I dig my roots of Rome and Carthage
Into all the eyes that have ever seen me.
A summer grape ripens in my veins,
It blossoms into a vineyard of embraces:
I can't pick either one, but I drink them all.
My heart would burn for anyone
I would relunquish my life to anyone
And I would share my red death with anyone!
The morning swimming in an ocean of crimson
Hears me shouting a new name, everytime,
Always at the top of my voice
And the silver clouds put on a new skin.
Desperately the sea flows
And my eyes divorce themselves
From the ivory of my skull, and leap
Into the cradle of black hair
Lapping fresh ashes in their sheets.
The tomb of her love is my steeple,
A window peers out unto an orange tree
She tries to hide from my sight;
I wistfully breathe in the bitter-sweet scent
Of the oranges inscribed with my epitaph.
Why should I worry that love has a new name each sunset?
I will worry, when love has no name.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I'd have to agree with the others and say there is great imagery projected here as of your broad use of vocab. I particularly liked this line, "And my eyes divorce themselves," i can almost feel my eyes doing that sometimes, but ive not been able to describe it.
Well written, thanks for sharing..
tammy x -
Wow this is good!
Very nice imagery !
---Janette -
"A summer grape ripens in my veins,
It blossoms into a vineyard of embraces" love it, love it, love it! and I love what this write has blossomed into. Very strong imagery throughout and you left me speechless by the last line. Why do we worry indeed? our love shifts forms and is a drifter, and what does it matter if it manifests in the many and not one? While love remains, it matters not what clothes it wears. Love transcends the personal.
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